Memories
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: There was a time in Berk where there was no peace with the dragons. Stoick was just a teen, and Gobber was starting out as an apprentice at the local blacksmith shop. They go through dragon training and searching for the dragons' nest. God bless you!
1. Welcome Home, Gobber!

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. What? A full-fledged HTTYD chapter story from me? Who knew, right? This is about, eh, fifteen to twenty years earlier from the present time in Berk, and for the sake of everyone reading this, I'll make their Scottish talk sound as normal as possible. And I won't keep this accurate to the books because I haven't read them! But, Christmas...  
**

Bright and early, the morning was, just the way Stoick liked to start his day. He thought of himself as being a bright and early person. Bright and early, however, would not describe his son at all. Hiccup was prone to try to stay in bed as long as possible. Hopefully, that devil of a dragon, Toothless, would get him up soon. It was getting a wee bit too bright for the lad to stay in bed.

For Stoick, the bed is where he usually was jumping out of. After taking down a bowl of mush that morning, he went over and shouted in his boy's ear to wake him up. The usual response was an annoyed moan and a pillow pulled over the lad's head. Stoick playfully grabbed the pillow and threw it across the room. Hiccup hated that.

Helmet on his head and a cheery mood to accompany him, Stoick left the house, whistling of all things. The pierced noise would never have crossed the man's lips if this had been a few months earlier, but Berk was different now. Dragons roamed the streets like tame, docile dogs. Tame, docile and helpful dogs. You never needed to make a fire around here anymore. There was flame-makers around every corner.

Walking quickly down the rough roads and wooden streets, Stoick made his way down to the docks. Berk's docks were always filled with boats and buzzed with activity. Fisherman were constantly pulling in with their large boats, hauling in great netfuls of big flopping scaled fish. The demand for the creatures had increased with the arrival of the dragons.

This particular morning, however, the fishermen had gone out with their boats earlier than usual, leaving the dock's harbor bare, with the exception of a few small canoes and war boats. The gulls were the only habitats on this fine morn.

Stoick merely shrugged and when he saw no one around, he bent down and sat on the edge of the dock. Clasping his hands together, he looked out over the sea, and what a magnificent sea it was. The waves crashed against the beams holding up the dock, sending little random drops of ocean drink up into the air.

Stoick took in a deep breath through his nose, and let it out with a contented sigh. Och, that smell. That salty and bitter smell of the waters brought back so many memories of when he was younger. He was Hiccup's age when he started hanging out by the docks. With its cool breezes and silent atmosphere (save the loud, hungry gulls), it brought him back to when he was a Viking teen in dragon training, next in line to be chieftain.

He closed his eyes and thought of those memories, memories of a time long ago.

* * *

"Stoick, Stoick, where are ya?" Spitelout cupped his hands together and shouted. Just like his brother to run away like that. Just because he was older didn't mean that he could just leave the house early and leave him drooling in his bed.

His voice became lost over the crowded docks of Berk. Surrounded by people walking about, who smelled like fish, which was down right nasty, I mean, who would want to smell like a fish? Spitelout was just glad his occupation wasn't going to be that of catching sea creatures.

The dark haired teen let one of his hands comb through his hair absently. He knew Stoick was bound to be down there. The boys' best friend was coming home from a little vacation on the seas with his parents, and Stoick had been awfully moody when he was gone. Now that Gobber was returning, Spitelout could only hope his brother's temper would improve. With him gone, their father had gone and and started to talk to him about being chief. Needless to say, Spitelout was glad that he was not going to be chieftain. Stoick often came out of his lectures with a face of pure annoyance.

Now slightly annoyed at him for going off and disappearing, Spitelout let out an annoyed breath and started to make his way through the crowd.

Rounding a corner, he felt a great weight leap onto his back, nearly pulling him backwards. Thick Viking arms clenched around his neck for balance, causing him to nearly choke as he managed to make out, "Stoick, ya great oaf, ya chokin' me!"

Stoick grinned and let go, falling easily onto the wooden boards. Spitelout let his hands surround his neck protectively, letting precious gulps of air come into his throat.

"What was that for, Stoick?" Spitelout wondered, annoyed. The teen behind him smiled and walked into his brother's sight. Stoick was a tall, thick teen, with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side. He had a small beard growing already. The small mat of red hair covered his entire chin.

"Och, I can barely help it, Spite, Gobber is coming home today, and with him home, no more time for talks with Dad! It is going to be awesome, Spitelout!" Stoick said excitedly, letting his hand smack against his brother's back in good humor.

"Och, he was only gone for two weeks!" Spitelout pointed out.

"Oy, but two weeks is enough for your dad to shove several generations of tradition down ya throat!" Stoick replied as the two started to walk down the rest of the wooden stairs. "And I'll let ya know, brother, that it didn't go down easy. Has a nasty taste to it."

"Oh, believe me, Stoick, I'm glad I'm not. Ya handle it better," Spitelout patted his brother on the back before he quickened his step, "this is why ya were born first!"

"Why? So I could be older, wiser and taller than ya?" Stoick wondered as he by-stepped some children who were chasing each other.

"No, it's because ya'll handle the job better," Spitelout quickly reminded him.

"Nope, I think it's so I can be taller than ya!"

"Is not!"

"Then how do you explain our height difference?" Stoick wondered. The two brothers came to a halt to face each other. They were still growing, being teens and all, but Stoick had already reached a height that surpassed several grown men, a height he was awfully proud of. While he was six foot nine, Spitelout was only six foot five.

Stoick grinned heartily as he patted his littler brother on the head. "See?"

Spitelout angrily flicked the beefy hand away. "Just because ya are older doesn't mean that ya'll be taller!"

Stoick's grin only grew broader as he turned and continued down the long and fragile wooden walkway. "I could say otherwise, pipsqueak!"

"I am no pipsqueak, ya great big animal!" Spitelout counteracted. The two teens were able to make their way down to the harbor. Albeit, they had to watch their step in order not to step on some left behind child or rotten fish.

"Well, little brother," Stoick sighed as he leaned against a tall barrel, "ya'll always be a pipsqueak compared to me."

Spitelout looked at him with folded arms and a look of annoyance. "I hate your tall bloody guts."

"And I hate your short bloody guts, brother," Stoick replied nonchalantly. The two teens stood on the harbor, watching the horizon for a few minutes before Spitelout broke the silence with, "How did we get on the subject of bloody guts, Stoick?"

The chieftain-to-be had been staring at the clouds in the sky. His gaze slowly turned to Spitelout and he said, "I don't know. Maybe it's best that we just not talk and wait for Gobber."

"Agreed," Spitelout nodded.

The two brothers fell silent as the atmosphere of the docks drew them in. Stoick took in a deep breath of the cool, crisp sea water. Oy, if he wasn't meant to be chieftain when he was of age (or when Liam Haddock, the current chief and the boys' father, died), he'd go out and be a warrior of some kind, one that would go down in history (if anyone in Berk bothered to write down anything that happened in Berk). He'd go on and battle tribes single-handedly, and it would be he who would find the dragons' nest.

Oh, the dragons' nest. The place where all those dragons that attacked Berk came from. It had been Liam Haddock who had figured out that they had a nest somewhere, for they all worked together to destroy their village and take their livestock. They had to all live at the same place.

Someone would have to find the dragons' nest and destroy it, and Stoick was planning to be the chief to lead the attack.

He hated dragons. He loathed, scowled at, had a burning passion against and despised dragons. All of them; the Monstrous Nightmares with their nasty habit of setting themselves on fire, the Terrible Terror, whose name fit them perfectly, the little suckers, Deadly Nadders with their poisonous spikes and Hideous Zipplebacks with their two, stupid heads and the stupid and fat Gronckles. Oh, and whose were just the ones who attacked the village. Stoick grew up hearing horrific and gory tales of many other breeds up north, like the Timberjack and the Scalddron.

Every single story that he heard was burned deep into his memory. He had been told that when he himself was just a wee babe, he had gone and popped the head of a dragon off. He never remembered doing such a thing, but his mom and dad stood by it. Some of the other jealous villagers, including Spite, Gobber, and all of his other friends, eh, not so much. Did he believe it? Yes he did.

Hopefully Gobber would bring back some cool stories for him to hear. Vikings were always busy kicking dragons' butts and rebuilding houses and farming, but everyone knew that work and no fun was a bad recipe for disaster. Stories were always a welcome source of entertainment.

Speaking of the sarcastic devil, Stoick noticed the front of a small family sized boat coming in from the north. Upon closer inspection, he could see the front consisting of a small, detail-filled dragon's head. He could see small hints of the blue shields that Gobber's father used to decorate his boat, and the orange sail that floated in the breeze.

Yep, it was Gobber's boat.

"Hey, wake up, Spitelout, that's Gobber's boat!" Stoick yelled excitedly. Spitelout had been sitting on the top of a stray barrel, his eyes starting to close under the warm sun. Upon hearing his brother, the Viking instantly stood up and replied, "I was NOT sleepin'!"

Stoick scoffed. "Oh, and that was just an imaginary snore?" This remark earned him a little brother roaring a battle cry and clinging to his shoulders. Stoick fell backward, crushing Spitelout. Spitelout spat out a mat of red hair growing out into his mouth and rolled his brother over. The two started to brawl about the dock, clinging to each other as they rolled around. The fisherman taking in their nets of feisty fish only gave them a sideways glance; fighting broke out on the docks often, there was no need to watch another brawl.

Stoick was able to get a firm grip on his brother's shoulders and he pushed and shoved him to the end of the dock. With one final push, the red-haired teen pushed Spitelout into the green waters. Spitelout sunk down for a moment before he realized what was happening. Keeping an eye on his air level, he pushed himself to the surface. His face broke through the ocean's surface with a splash. He wiped the water out of his face and eyes to see a roaring Stoick.

"What are you laughing at?" Spitelout asked spitefully.

Stoick placed a fat hand over his belly in an effort to control his laughter. He stopping laughing long enough to say, "Ya look so funny!"

"Oh, I do, do I?" Spitelout asked, spewing a squirt of water out of his mouth. With one hand on the dock, he quickly used his other hand to grab his brother's leg. Stoick had been sitting down during his laughing fit, and he let out a, "Spitelout! Let go!" as his brother pulled him toward the water.

"And why should I?" Spitelout asked with a grin. Stoick growled, annoyed at him, and remembering that he had hands, he grabbed the posts on the dock. Spitelout grunted and pulled harder. "Let go, Stoick!"

"I can't let ya do that," Stoick responded. Spitelout tugged all the harder, making Stoick's grip grow tighter.

Spitelout groaned and thought for a way to make his brother let go. A thought came to him and he yelled loudly, "Look, Stoick, Viking women!"

"What? Where?" Stoick wondered. Spitelout grinned and pulled his brother into the depths. Stoick sputtered and rose to the top of the oceans, drops of water falling from his face and helmet.

"What was that for, ya great oaf?" Stoick cried.

Spitelout grinned and splashed a small wave of water at Stoick. "I call it returning the favor."

"Ya sore loser," Stoick accused.

"That I may be, but look how we're both wet, I think I was pretty smart," Spitelout replied.

"Well, lads, ya're about as smart as a pair of unsharpened knives!" a teasing voice called to them. Stoick and Spitelout exchanged a look before they both looked up to see Gobber, returned to his home, sweet home.

"Gobber!" Stoick yelled happily. Spitelout groaned and sputtered when Stoick accidentally kicked water in his face as he scrambled onto the dock. Once on, he stood before his friend, dripping like he had been out in a rainstorm.

"Aye?" Gobber asked with a smile.

"I've missed ya!" Stoick said, eagerly giving the teen a bear hug. Gobber gulped and was able to make out, "I noticed."

"He missed ya like a pup without his master," Spitelout called as he eased out of water.

"That's good to know," Gobber said in a squeezed tone of voice. "Stoick, can ya let me breathe?"

"Oh, yeah," Stoick remembered, and he let his grip on his friend slacken. Spitelout came to join the two as Gobber wheezed and said, "Thanks."

"Oh, goodness, Gobber, you have to tell us all the stuff ya did while ya were gone!" Stoick said excitedly.

"A'ight, but let's go to Mead Hall before Ma makes me start carrying things to the house," Gobber suggested. "We stopped by a trading village along the coast a few miles back, and Ma went berserk."

"Aye, let's go!" Spitelout agreed. The two wet and dripping brothers followed their friend up the wooden walkway.

"I noticed ya went and grew a little fur while I was gone, aye, Stoick?" Gobber said in a teasing voice as the three finished walking along the wood and onto the dirt paths.

Stoick smiled proudly and said, "Aye, I did. Ya like it?" The chief's son carefully scratched at his red beard. It was kinda of cool having facial hair, though it got to be terribly itchy sometimes.

"Aye, it fits ya. When I start growing hair, I'll get a mustache, and I'll beard the ends once they're long enough!" Gobber decided excitedly.

"Well, soon, this bit will grow out so much that I can make it into a dozen braids!" Stoick smiled. Beards made a man, and he was going to have the best one in Berk.

"Aye, sounds good. What about you, Lout?" Gobber wondered.

"I haven't given it much thought. It's the wee bit of a change, I suppose, that'll I'll have to get over. I'll get one, but I think I'll just let it grow. You guys can make cute little braids out of yours with yellow ribbons and bows," Spitelout grinned.

Stoick reached over and punched him in the arm. "They're not goin' to be girly braids. They're goin' to be warrior braids."

"Yeah, sure. Ya both will look nice and pretty when ya go fighting," Spitelout teased.

"Speakin' of fighting," Gobber said as he turned on his heel and faced the brothers, "guess what I met when I was out sailin'?"

"What was it, Gobber?" Stoick asked. Gobber smiled and put his hands on his hips as he said slowly, "I met the Boneknapper."

"Wait, what's a Boneknapper?" Spitelout wondered.

"Well, ya see, lads, the Boneknapper is a special kind of dragon. He goes all around the world looking for the perfect bones to make his shield of armor."

Stoick sighed and let a hand wipe his wet face. "Gobber, why on earth would a dragon want a suit of armor made out of bones?"

"Beats me," Gobber shrugged. "It was so exciting. We were sailing on through a crevice in the ice when I needed to heed the call of nature. Once done, I looked about, and I noticed something in the ice around me. It was a tribe of Vikings, frozen, in the ice! My eye caught one Viking holding a small chest in his hand." Gobber reached into his helmet and drew out the chest. Stoick and Spitelout leaned over to see it closer.

It was a brown-gold chest, with a golden colored lock. It was actually a very nice chest, Stoick had to admit.

"How did you get it if it was in the ice?" Spitelout asked.

"I'll tell ya," Gobber scowled. "I used my axe and chopped out the ice and reached in. I went and grabbed it and opened it. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen!"

"Even more pretty than Viking women?"

"Shut up, Stoick. Anyway, I went to grab the treasure, but the Viking that had been holding it grabbed my arm and started to make me punch myself in the face!" Stoick and Spitelout exchanged unamused looks. THEY both knew that Vikings cannot move while frozen in ice. EVERYONE knew that.

"It did not!" Spitelout scowled.

"It did too! See!" Gobber opened his mouth wide for examination. After the initial shock of Gobber's breath, the two peered inside. Straight teeth ran along his gum, but then stopped when a hole became present. Apparently, Gobber was saying that the punch knocked out his tooth.

With a grin, Gobber closed his mouth and said, "See? I told ya!"

Stoick sighed. Gobber could sometimes be called mental. "Gobber, you could have just punched yourself in the face by your own will!"

"Ahh," Gobber grinned, "but I didn't. The thing was that I couldn't figure out WHY the Viking was punching me in the face. He pointed behind me, and there it was. The Boneknapper dragon. He was so incredibly long, the size of a longboat! And his hellish skin was covered with bones, the cannibal!"

"Hey, who ever said that those were dragon bones?" Spitelout asked. Stoick sighed and knocked his brother upside the head. "Don't encourage him." Spitelout groaned and rubbed his head, glaring at Stoick.

"Anyway, _as I was saying, _the Boneknapper flew down and tried to grab the treasure from my hands, like I was going to give it to the devil. I bent down, and he crashed into the wall of ice, breaking it apart and the frozen Vikings broke out and caused an avalanche!"

"An avalanche?" Stoick asked flatly.

"Of frozen Vikings?" Spitelout finished.

"Yes, and then I slipped and fell. The chest flew from my hands and skated across the ice into the frigid water! I raced to it and grabbed it before it could sink to the bottom, but before I could take my hand out of the water, the old Viking grabbed the chest and started to punch me with my hand again! It hurt somethin' awful! He wouldn't let go, he wanted that chest as much as I did.

"Before I could make him let go, the Boneknapper caused the piece of ice I was sitting on to seesaw, launching me into the air! He grabbed the chest with his talons, and we squirmed around before I made him let go and I slid through a crack in the wall of the ice! I launched into the air again, and ya'll never guess where I landed!" Gobber said excitedly.

"China?" Stoick asked, frankly quite annoyed at the obsceneness of this story. Did Gobber really expect them to believe this?

"No, Stoick, in my parents' boat! I told them afterwards where I got the chest, but they just thought I was being crazy!"

Spitelout leaned over to Stoick's attentive ear and whispered, "Now, why would they think that?"

Stoick sighed at Spitelout's statement and shook his head. Hopefully, Gobber wouldn't be telling this to anyone else. "So, Gobber, if there really was a Boneknapper, why did it want the treasure so badly?"

"And what was the treasure anyway?" Spitelout asked. Gobber, ignoring Stoick's question, opened the chest with a slight grin on his face and held it out to show them. Inside the cushion covered chest, there was a little bone in the shape of a T.

"He wanted that?" Stoick asked, plainly vexed.

"Yes, ya know why? 'Cause I wanted it!" Gobber pointed out matter-of-factly."Even if ya don't want it, but someone else does, ya got to have it!"

"And right now, I want a mug of mead, meaning that ya want one too. Come on, Gobber, the rest of the gang should be at Mead Hall," Stoick said, clapping a hand on Gobber's back. The three teens made their way through the village, stopping occasionally for people to say hi to Gobber and ask him how his vacation was.

"It was...eventful," he'd grin. Every time he'd say that, Stoick and Spitelout would share a brotherly rolling of the eyes and would drag him off before he became involved in a long and tiresome conversation with some curious villager.

To Stoick and Spitelout's relief, it didn't take too long to get to Mead Hall. The overgrown hall was on top of a hill, not a steep hill, though. It had a lovely cliff in the front over which Viking teens would dare each other to lean over as much as they could without falling off. The view was quite nice though, though not nice enough to go and be part of the delightful scenery.

Stoick reached out and slowly pushed the big ornate doors back. Waving them in, he followed behind the other two teens as they walked into Mead Hall.

The Hall sported a large amount of wooden tables, long and communal in use. To the left of them was a bar where a bartender was serving various Vikings either cool mead or warm and spiced mead. The spiced mead was twice as expensive as the cool one; spices were of precious and rare value and was always in high demand.

Stoick leaned against one of the detail-oriented pillars holding up the roof of the place for a break. Taking in deep breaths from walking through the entire village, his eyes looked around for the group of teens that always had a table. The Teen Table, as they called it. A stupid and obvious name, subtle by no means, but Vikings were always a straightforward and not-so-subtle people.

He didn't have to look long, however, for he immediately heard the loud yelling of Hilda and Huffnut fighting. Those two never really got along. Stoick straightened up and followed the eager Spitelout and Gobber.

The three arrived at their table just in time to see Huffnut get crushed by Hilda's fat body. Along the table's benches, there was Buffnut Thorston, older brother of Huffnut, Stonebone Ingerman, a quiet boy who had a deep voice, Phlegma Begga, a very loud girl, and Valhallarama Freygunnr, a very Viking-like girl with a cheery personality. Taking a seat next to Stonebone, Stoick leaned over to him and asked, "What happened now?"

"Well, ya see, Stoick, Huffnut went and spilled her mead all over the table," Stonebone explained as he went and wiped his finger on the table. Once he had a bit of mead on his finger, he held it up for the chieftain-to-be to see. Stoick wrinkled his nose at the sticky drink and said, "And?"

"And it got all over Hilda," Buffnut explained. "Got all over her lap."

"And then Hilda climbed onto the table and pounced on Huffnut," Valhallarama, whom everyone, for the sake of being a people of few words as well as syllables, called Vall, took a sip of mead and then pushed three mugs full of the alcohol toward the three teens. "Welcome home, Gobber."

The three teens smiled and each took a swig of the brew. Gobber sighed as he wiped his mouth with his arm and said, "Thank ya, Vall."

Stoick smiled as he watched Vall as he slowly sipped his mead. Vall, unlike the fighting prone Hilda and Huffnut or the loud Phlegma, was a different sort of Viking. While she went berserk during a raid like all the other Vikings and teens did, all the other times she was sweet and nice, (well, as sweet and nice as you can be when you're a Viking), especially to the little kids. She was very good with kids.

As for her fighting skills, she was amazing. An axe was her type of weapon, Stoick couldn't help but notice, and though she was a bit on the chubby side, she was very quick and swift with an axe or in life in general. She was the peacekeeper in the group, a good person to have when you wanted a fight stopped. This time, however, even Stoick could tell that the girls were just being ridiculous and just needed to work it out themselves.

Hilda sat on Huffnut's stomach, pinning her arms down and preparing to spit in her face. Huffnut looked at her opponent with a look of disgust and howled, "Buff, you idiot, help me out here!"

Buffnut thought about that for a moment while he quietly sipped his mead. Setting down his cup, his hands rubbed together deviously as he called over to her, "Alright, but you have to watch Tuffnut tomorrow morning so I can go hunt down dragons."

Huffnut scowled at the proposition and the lob of spit hanging from Hilda's mouth, who was holding in a laugh, and yelled angrily, "Heck no, you moron!"

"I'm not the moron here. It was you who needed a lid on your mug, ya big baby!" Buffnut yelled.

"I. Am not. A. BABY!" Huffnut yelled, her hands stretching far enough to start to tickle Hilda's arms. Hilda started to gurgle and loosen her grip, causing Huffnut to gain the upperhand and push the heavier girl aside. Hilda rolled across the floor and landed against the table with a thud. The heavy girl laughed loudly as she choked on her own spit.

"That was hilarious!" she sputtered as Spitelout offered her a hand, which she thankfully grabbed. Her grip tight around his wrist, she pulled him to the ground as she stood up and quickly slid into his seat next to Gobber. Grabbing the teen's slightly sipped drink, she downed the remainder of the drink, the whole table watching her in awe as she drank the whole thing without stopping.

With one final gulp, she set the mug down and wiped her mouth with her arm. She looked and saw everyone at their table staring at her like she had killed a dragon.

"What are ya looking at?" she genuinely wondered. Stoick shook his head and took another sip of his drink. Hilda was not exactly the brightest one in their group.

Spitelout sighed and sat down on the other side of Stonebone. Huffnut shoved her brother over and said tauntingly, "Ya're still goin' to have to watch Tuffnut tomorrow."

"Ugh. Just because I'm his older brother doesn't mean I have to babysit the kid," Buffnut groaned as he stuck his finger in his empty mug and started to twirl it. "I hope he has kids that are as annoying and obnoxious as you!"

"Um, Mom says that to _you, _not to Tuffnut," Huffnut pointed out as she stole her brother's mug. The two started to elbow and poke each other, that of little amusement compared to wrestling matches.

Vall sighed and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she turned to face Gobber and Stoick. Taking a sip from her mug, she asked, "So, how was yar trip, Gobber?"

"Ya know, fun, lots and lots of shopping with the mother, loved it all," Gobber said sarcastically as he took another sip of mead. Setting it down, a big smile grew on his face as he waved his hands about and said, "You know what I did find though? A new drag-"

Stoick took this as an opportunity to stomp on Gobber's foot. Like he needed everyone else to know about that ridiculous story of his. Gobber let out a high pitched squeal at the sharp stomp and bit his lip, glaring at Stoick with an angry and annoyed face. To that Stoick simply gave him a look.

"Well? You found a what?" Vall wondered. She watched the two, confused, as she pushed back her red hair that was growing into her face. She folded her arms and placed them on the table and rested her head on them.

The two best friends shared an annoyed glare before Gobber turned back to Vall and continued, "I found, uh, a new dragon claw, on the, uh, boat. Devil must have lost it during the last dragon raid." Stoick gave him a nod. That would work.

"Really?" Vall asked excitedly. "Where is it?"

Gobber's proud face fell into a frown as he sighed. He reached backward and started to scratch his neck nervously as he stuttered, "I, um, lost it. On the boat. There was a bunch of waves, and it was all bumpy, and it slipped out of my hand and fell into the water."

Vall sighed as she buried her face deeper into her thick arms. "Oh, that's too bad."

Stoick sighed as he wiped his face with his hand. Why couldn't Gobber be a bit more suave? He only hoped and thought of a silent prayer that his friend would be able to say something to break the awkward silence.

"I, umm..." Gobber fumbled. He had been playing around with his empty mug, and his jittery fingers let it fall to the floor. Stoick and Gobber both cringed as it fell with a thud, and danced around the floor before it slowly came to a stop, the noise it made echoing throughout the Hall.

Gobber groaned and Stoick slouched on the bench. The siblings, Stonebone, Phlegma, Hilda and Spitelout had stopped with their yapping a long time ago, and now the nine teens just sat around staring at each other, Stonebone and Hilda each occasionally taking a small sip from their mugs. The other Vikings adults who had been drinking and saying light chatter were gone, probably to do their work. Only the bartender was left, and he was silently wiping away at mugs with a rag.

Not wanting to deal with this awkwardness, Phlegma sighed and jumped off the bench, saying, "Anyone else want another round?" She was greeted by a slight crowd of murmurs of yes. Nodding her head curtly, she ran to the bar.

The only sound they could hear was the slight noise of Phlegma's voice, which quickly faded away as she finished explaining their order. Gobber shifted in his seat and once again tried to jump start the conversation. "So, uh, anything eventful happen while I was gone?"

Vall sighed and brought her hands to her sides. Taking a deep and depressing breath, she said, "Well, we had a dragon raid, lost twenty two men, killed a total of thirty six dragons, had to rebuild five new houses and we lost one hundred and seventeen sheep and cattle. So, aye, ya can call it eventful."

Her dreary speech only made the atmosphere of the room worst. Stoick took off his helmet and ran a hand through his rough hair.

Where was Phlegma with those drinks?

* * *

"Look, Stoick, thank ya for coming with me," Gobber smiled at his friend. Stoick took another step on the crude step and replied, "Well, I know the feeling of having angry parents. They're easier on ya when there's a non-family member listening. Trust me. Stonebone was at my house once when I had forgotten to meet Dad for fishing, and I got off with only a small reprimand." He chuckled as he added, "And I'd do anything to leave Mead Hall."

Gobber smiled, and the two best friends traversed up the hill on which Gobber's home was located. Fortunately for Gobber and his parents, the great fire-breathing beasts had spared their abode while they were gone.

Gobber stopped at his doorstep and turned to Stoick with a finger over his mouth to motion to him to be quiet. The chief's son nodded, and Gobber turned and slowly opened the door a crack. He and Stoick each popped their heads in the doorway to sneak a look.

The small one-room downstairs floor was tight but cozy. There was a fire blazing in the stone fireplace on the north side of the room with an armchair in front of it. On the right side of the room, there was a small kitchen space and a table with a few scattered rough stools surrounding it. A chest sat against the wall on the left side near the stairs. The wooden floors could be barely seen from the amount of skin rugs and carpets sprawled across the floor. Gobber's father liked his taxidermy.

There was no luggage or boxes or bags dumped on the floor, making Gobber inwardly groan. They had put everything away already.

The place was lit with few candles for the windows were letting in many a bit of light. Gobber and Stoick both winced when they noticed the sunshine fall on the small and fat figure of Gobber's mother. She was hunched over her little work space, kneading a bit of bread dough, the boys realized after sniffing the air. She was humming a random tune to herself and had her back to them. Gobber shushed Stoick once again (even though Stoick hadn't made a bit of noise besides breathing) before he slipped into the room.

Both boys quietly lifted their feet as they made their way through the room. They had been so quiet and stealthy that they both groaned a loud and annoyed groan when Gobber's mother, Bree, called over to them from her little spot, "Gobber, dear, your father is upstairs and he wants to see you. Why don't both you boys sit down and I'll call him down."

The best friends looked at each other with a sigh and they both took a seat at the rough table. Bree, with a bright and cheery smile on her face, slowly waddled over to them and set a tray of freshly baked cookies on the table. How she had managed to bake cookies in the hour they had been home, Stoick would never know.

"How could ya cook these so fast?" Gobber wondered as he picked up a cookie and held it up to the light. Upon seeing that it was cooked all the way, he shrugged and popped it into his mouth.

Bree smiled and said in a motherly tone of voice, "It's a woman thing, dear." Turning her back to them, she cupped her hands together and shouted, "Craig, yar son is here!" Her voice echoed through the small house, ringing in Gobber and Stoick's ears. She turned to them with a smile and went back to her baking.

They turned from the small woman over to the thundering man stomping down the stairs. Each step he took made Gobber cringe just a little bit more. He bet his father was taking small steps on purpose. The man usually went down two at a time, but oh no, he just now decided to go one step at a time. Make the waiting slow and torturous.

Craig finally made his way to the bottom of the stairs. Without a word, he crossed the room and sat down in a chair. Gobber sighed impatiently and tapped his fingers on the tabletop as his father slowly reached over and grabbed a cookie. He held it to his mouth and took a bite.

Gobber sighed loudly and said, "Well, aren't ya goin' to scold me?"

Craig put down his cookie and slowly turned to his son. Bree called over from her spot by the kitchen, "Craig, tell him the BIG news!"

Stoick took another bite of the cookie he was holding and Gobber gulped down the rest of the baked good he had in his mouth. "Wait, what big news?"

"Well, Gobber," Craig said slowly (Stoick was beginning to find a pattern in the man's lifestyle), "I went down to the blacksmith's shop today."

"Um, okay," Gobber said nervously as he traced the cracks in the wood.

"And I had a talk with Blubber, the blacksmith."

"Okay, and ya had a nice heart-to-heart chat, how nice for old friends to catch up," Gobber laughed nervously. "Now ya don't have to talk to each other for another decade."

Craig ignored his son. "And we made a deal."

"Okay, good. Deals are good. So, are ya getting some daggers sharpened for half price or something?" Gobber wondered. Stoick sighed and took another bite of cookie. This conversation was feeling very one-sided.

"No. He needed some help in the shop and I have a son. So, we decided to start you on a blacksmith's apprenticeship."

Stoick horked and nearly choked on his cookie. Gobber's face turned white. He had come in thinking that he was going to be given a small scolding for not helping in putting away the family's stuff from their vacation, and now he was an apprentice at a place filled with fire and sharp surfaces!

Craig actually cracked a smile and he called over his shoulder, "Bree, our son is speechless!"

"Goodness day, he must be so excited!" Bree squealed.

"Och, yes, he is very surprised." Craig reached over and whacked Gobber on the back which Stoick thought was supposed to be a friendly slap. Gobber only squeaked as Craig stood up and said, "I'm going to go cut up some more firewood." He stood up and walked over to the door. Easing it open, he called over his shoulder, "And, oh Gobber, your bags are in your room."

Stoick hacked and downed the cookie stuck in his throat. He coughed violently and thumped his chest with his fists. When he finally calmed down, he turned over to his best friend. Gobber's face had gone blank. His face had turned white, a color all too easy for the teen to turn, and his eyes stood frozen, except for his left, which slightly twitched.

"Gobber? Gobber?" Stoick asked worriedly. He reached out and waved a thick hand in front of the boy's face. Gobber in response only slowly but surely fell backward. His stool crashed down as he collided with the floor. Only then did his eyes slowly started to function as he slowly opened and closed his eyelids.

"What just happened?" Gobber wondered blankly as he sat up straight, his eyes darting about the room.

"Ya're goin' to be a blacksmith's apprentice," Stoick said.

Gobber smiled and answered nonchalantly, "Alright then."

Stoick smiled. Yep. Gobber was just fine.

**Well, that's the first chapter! I added some OC teens for the fun of it. I imagine Stoick of having a nicer relationship with the teens his age then Hiccup had. 'Cause Stoick wasn't as clumsy or awkward as Hiccup. I hope y'all liked it, and please leave a review! :3**


	2. Fiery Tempers and Raid

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Here's another chapter to add on to their story. Here's to reading about some bad-ass dragons and kick butt Vikings! (Listening to This is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars. It's inspirational and helps while typing, not to mention it's an awesome song!) On to the story!**

Young Stoick the Vast, soon to be chief of the Hairy Hooligans and master dragon slayer was in bed, snoring. His helmet, a dingy grey with traces of dirt streaked across it from years of usage, was sitting lopsidedly on his bed post. He lay on his back, his thin blanket slowly raising and falling in psych with his breathing. It was still warm out, and all the wool blankets that his mom kept were stored away for real cold and wintery nights.

One arm across his chest, the other falling out of the too small frame, he snored softly and let out a small hiccup in his sleep. From the looks of him, he looked content and quiet. But right outside his house, things were starting to turn ugly.

One of the lookouts positioned on one of the large hills Berk boasted was standing tall, holding up his lit torch. His eyes darted about the sky; he was ready to alert the village at any point it needed to be.

Like now, for instance.

The lookout noticed a slight movement in the skies. He squinted and moved the torch closer for a better look. His eyes went wide and he ducked immediately. A Deadly Nadder let out a mighty roar, angry at seeing the Viking duck, and let out a fiery burst of flame. The fire flew over the man's hand, scorching his helmet, and it fell on the ground behind him, making the hill start to catch on fire.

The Nadder swooped higher in the air, making the lookout scowl as he hastily grabbed a bucket of water he kept on hand and quickly doused the fire. With great quickness, he withdrew his warning horn kept on him and quickly let out a great blast.

The great noise of the horn floated out into the village. It resounded, loud and angry and fierce, like the long and dangerous howl of a gold-eyed wolf. The alert provoked the Vikings out of their beds.

Within ten seconds of hearing the alarm, Stoick gasped/grunted hurriedly and sat up straight, and foolishly hit the rafters extending down into his bed. Being six foot nine had its disadvantages, Stoick thought to himself as he rubbed his forehead and reached for his helmet. Helmets were very symbolic of Vikings. They were needed in battle.

He stood up and as quickly as he could, grabbed his big and bulky hammer that was located under his window. He looked up to see his neighbor's house on fire.

A particular fire glowed in Stoick's eyes as he straightened. No dragon was going to destroy _his _village.

He leapt over his bed and ran down through the house. He yanked the front door open and let out a long and guttural war cry, filled with ear piercing qualities that could instill fear into the hearts of many dragons.

Stoick tore out of the house like a lightening bolt and gave the village a quick scan before sprinting into action. All the buildings to his right and on down to the dock had at least one Viking on top of his roof, yelling at the top of his lungs and laying the beat down on a dragon.

Terrible Terrors were swooping down on the villagers, letting out little sparks of fire right at their pink and unprotected faces. They'd get right down into your face and before you can react enough to swat them, they'd spit and grow in altitude, chuckling gloatingly to themselves as they went to find their next victim.

On the left side of the village, Zipplebacks were crashing through doors and lighting the furnishings inside. Stoick knew that he was supposed to be on water duty, putting out all the little petty fires before they grew into deadly ones, but he thought for a second and decided that he might as well try to stop one of the beasts. With another blood curdling yell, he raced down to the houses.

Plowing through a crowd of Vikings, all bearing dangerous weapons and all going Berserk, Stoick somersaulted and landed right next to the left side of a Zippleback. His presence caused the heads to both slither out of the house and straighten to get a good look at him, turning its body to match up with the heads. The left head's eyes twinkled as he smiled deviously to the right head. The right head nodded and from what Stoick could tell, raised and lowered his eyebrows in amusement. The two heads turned to Stoick in psych, one letting sparks trickle out of his mouth in anticipation.

Stoick wasn't about to let himself get fried, however. As they both started to foam with their respective weapon, he charged up to them, sweat pouring down his face and nearly blocking his vision, (it was so damn warm with all the dragons breathing their hot flame), and smacked it in the chest where he knew its heart was located.

The Zippleback backed away in shock, obviously trying to come to terms with the pain emitting from its torso. The two heads snarled loudly and both moved simultaneously toward Stoick, who had jumped on their back and started to smack them as hard as he could. His head was bent low, watching and making sure he smacked them hard, not noticing their gas and spark growing larger and larger.

The teen looked up only when he heard a malicious cackle, the cackle of the spark about to zoom out of one of their mouths. He could barely blink before a stream of spark and fog of gas came right at him. It was at that moment that the Chief grabbed the back of his shirt and somehow managed to pull the heavy teen out of its way.

Stoick fell to the ground in shock, partly from the fact of his father's swiftness and partly from the fact that he was about to be fried Haddock. Only a minute later did the initial shock desert him enough to watch, amazed and mouth gaping, as Liam the Mighty, axe heaving and mouth roaring a horrific battle cry, went and attacked the Zippleback. It only took a few swings of his axe to make the dragon whimper and start to flap its wings before heading toward the sky, crying painfully.

Liam breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment before bending down on one knee, softly muttering under his breath. Stoick was still breathing heavily and his intake of breath only quickened when his father turned to him and roared angrily, "What in Hel's name was that, Stoick? Ya are supposed ta do water duty! Good water and land, YA DON'T KNOW HOW TO KILL DRAGONS! HAVE YA NEVER LISTENED TO ME WHEN I TRY TO TELL YA THINGS?"

Stoick only gulped as he stood up and straightened. Even though his father was only six foot five, just standing in front of him and listening to his annoyed voice made Stoick incredibly sobered.

"Honestly, Stoick, a Viking must learn how to fight before ya fight!" Liam added, anger flashing in his fiery blue eyes. He paced a few feet, turning around and coming back around, having gone silent. Even the fight and battle of Berserk Vikings and fire breathing dragons had disappeared as Stoick stood there, perfectly miserable inside.

Liam finally managed to subdue himself enough to say, "Stoick, I'll discuss your punishment wit' ya later." He stopped to stare at the teen, "Now, get ta water duty."

Stoick nodded and ran toward the water supply as quickly as his thick legs could carry him. He ducked and dodged Berserk Vikings and managed to keep himself from getting scorched by the Nadders that were taking off with a sheep in each of their talons.

His legs started to ache as he ran up to the water trough. Stonebone was using a wooden bucket to fill the large barrels that Hilda secured lids on. The hefty girl easily heaved one of the huge barrels, (leaving a struggling Huffnut on the other end, for Hilda had raised the barrel so high she couldn't reach it), cracking her back in the process, and slipped it into position onto wheels.

Stoick paused and saw Buffnut, Gobber, Phlegma and Spitelout fighting a fire that was taking a house a few yards away. Stoick immediately grabbed the rough ropes attached to the recently filled water barrel and started to pull it toward them.

Buffnut was just emptying the barrel as Stoick pulled up, small flames and papery flakes lining his clothing. Gobber grinned a bit as he poured the little water he had in his bucket over his friend's head, creating a mighty splash over his head.

"Aboot time ya showed up," he remarked. Stoick sighed at his friend. The last thing he needed at the moment was a bucket of sopping warm water poured over his head and his best friend remarking that he was late.

"Thanks, I needed that," Stoick told him as he prepared to take the empty water barrel back.

"Where did ya go anyway? I didn't see ya leave the house," Spitelout said as he put out a fire with his helmet (Buffnut was taking his turn getting the water from the barrel and Phlegma was watching impatiently).

Stoick really, really didn't want to inform his friends and little brother about his rash thinking about taking on a Zippleback at the age of fifteen, being saved from a fiery death from his father, who in turn roared at his idiotness.

"Nothing, I'll tell ya later," Stoick finally said as he pulled the empty water barrel back to the water supply. He had barely pulled it back, Spitelout barely missing a chance to say that his brother's head got burnt off by a Gronckle, when Stonebone pointed to another water barrel for him to take.

"I just gave 'em one," Stoick gasped. Surely not the four of them went through a barrel of water so quickly?

"It's for Vall," Stonebone stated quickly, his hands moving faster and faster as the cries of a triumphant Monstrous Nightmare filled the air, "she's down by the fields."

Stoick looked a bit astonished. "By _herself_?"

Stonebone looked at him like he had said that dragons were trustworthy. "Yessss."

Stoick looked at him only a second before taking the water barrel. Geez, he thought as he made his way down the streets, (fire-covered wood falling from familiar houses all around him), I never remembered Vall having an entire barrel to herself before.

But her skill and quickness left him amazed and somewhat proud of her. When he finally reached the burnt, grass-covered fields, he saw a sheep being taken into the air by a Zippleback, who was quickly attacked by a Viking. The Zippleback was infuriated by the fact that there was a loud human trying to bite his legs and squirted him with fire. The Viking's hands and arms were instantly caught afire and he fell down a good fifteen feet.

Stoick caught Vall's eye for a second as she bounded toward him. She had a certain glimmer in her eye, full of Vikingness and determination. That glint was also a sign that she had gone Berserk.

Vall smirked slightly as she filled her bucket with the water from the barrel. Stoick watched her for a second before ducking to avoid a Nadder that was flying painfully close to the ground.

Standing up straight, she gave him a quick look of gratitude and yelled over her shoulder as she raced back to the burnt Viking, "Thanks, Chief!"

It was nice when someone understands your rank around here, Stoick couldn't help but think as he noticed a spare bucket. He might as well help down here. He grasped the handle and pulled it under the spout. Pulling out the stopper, he watched the water pour into the bucket.

Once it was full, Stoick grabbed the handle and turned. He saw Vall dousing the fire-covered Viking with water and yelling at him, "Shake it t'off and get back ta work!" Normally in such circumstances, Vall would have gotten reprimanded by speaking to older Vikings like that, but as this was a battle field and her eyes were growing wild, it was best not to argue.

Stoick ran to the next burnt victim and the two teens gave each other a slight nod as they passed each other. They continued to rush back and forth between the barrel and the burning Vikings. Dragons were congregating by the fields where the sheep were trying to eat their cud. The monsters would swoop down and grasp their wooly hides with their sharp talons and would try to fly off to who knows where, that is, if a Viking didn't attack them first.

The Gronckles were closing in on the sheep; more Vikings showed up. More Vikings meant more burnt Vikings. Within a span of just a few minutes, the water barrel was nearly gone.

"Stoick!" Vall yelled as she doused her father with a bucket of water, "GO GET MORE OF DA BLOODY WATER!"

Stoick nodded and without a word, ran off to the water supply. His heart pounded as a Monstrous Nightmare, body all aflame, nearly beheaded him. A myriad of Vikings charged after it, for it was holding three sheep in his claws, one of which baaaed monotonely.

Stoick, keeping a firm hand on his helmet, arrived at the water supply. Stonebone was busy filling the water barrels and Hilda and Huffnut were still arguing, but they had been joined by Buffnut and Spitelout and Phlegma, who were all dipping their buckets back into the pond which was surrounded by stone fences.

"Where's Gobber?" Stoick wondered as he plopped the lid onto the water barrel.

"Blubber came by and dragged him off, sayin' it twas a good time for the first time," Spitelout explained.

The whole group hissed and ducked, hands over their heads, as a building nearby caved in.

"_That's _the next one we're gettin'," Phlegma commanded as she punched Buffnut, signaling him to help her drag a water barrel over there.

Stoick had no time to help them; he had to get this water barrel to Vall. He grabbed the ropes, dug his feet deep into the ground (his legs were starting to get just a little bit tired) and pulled. He was quickly able to make it to a hill which he could quickly descend, but before he could start the barrel moving, Wrinkly, Vall's father, put a firm foot down as his scrawny and burnt but strong hand clapped down on the barrel, holding it down from going any further.

"That's enough, son," Wrinkly commanded. Stoick looked at him with a look mixed with confusion and annoyance. Wrinkly pointed all around the village. Stoick saw that the dragons were all retreating, but not without their share of livestock. They clutched cows and pigs in their sharp talons, creating cages from which they could not escape. Terrible Terrors had chickens' heads in their mouths, their bodies still squirming and trying to break free.

All the Vikings in Berk were watching them as they flew away, slightly victorious in their haul, but only slightly. Bodies of a few Gronckles, multiple Terrible Terrors and one or two Deadly Nadders littered the ground, their blood dotting and flowing into the streets.

Stoick let go of the ropes and watched as all the other Vikings joined him and Wrinkly in the square. All of them were dirty, charred and had little speckles of blood scattered about their smelly clothing, which all stunk like smoke. The village healer, a woman by the name of Livger, wasn't present, for a fair amount of Vikings had already been brought to her hut for treatment of their injuries.

The crowd was talking animatedly about themselves, discussing how many there was and how much damage they had amassed. Their talking was instantly extinguished, however, when the Chief walked solemnly into the great, lopsided circle of Vikings.

His face was extremely sober and sweaty and his hands would need to be treated for burns. Stoick loudly cringed in practice for when his father's hands would get treated and ointmented at the table each day. Liam Haddock didn't exactly keep quiet when he was receiving painful medicine.

"Vell, e'veryone, we're not exactly sure how many sheep and assorted livestock had been taken. I'll be sure to get an exact account later today," Liam stated, almost on the verge of yawning. The sun was just starting to illuminate the skies above them. Normally, Vikings enjoyed their wondrous pink and orange cloud streaked sun ups and sun downs, but at the moment, the impact of what they had done that night was hitting them like a boulder, and now several Vikings (including practically all the teens, except Vall and Phlegma), yawned loudly.

"Nobody was killed or seriously injured, which is good, but," Liam announced as he surveyed the tired and vexed-at-dragons Vikings, "I'm calling an emergency meeting at Mead Hall."

Several gasps were heard throughout the village.

"It'll be in a couple of hours. Meantime, start to rebuild the houses, and try to get a bit 'o sleep," Liam finished. The Vikings stood there for a moment, talking quietly amongst themselves before shrugging (in true Viking fashion, shrugging is a way of accepting things like this) and started to walk slowly to their houses. The only Vikings remaining were Liam, Spitelout and Stoick.

The two boys stood there, watching their father for a moment. Spitelout hadn't even done anything wrong and yet he was still there, greatly fearing his father.

Liam looked at them through squinted eyes for a moment before saying in a don't-you-DARE-talk-back voice, "Come on, we're going home." He turned to leave and the teens started to follow, but they immediately stopped as Liam turned back, surveying their faces. He pointed an accusing finger at Stoick, saying, "Your mother is goin' ta hear aboot this."

Stoick only nodded and sighed, knowing that his father wouldn't have let this go.

The three silently made their way over to the large hill where the Chief's house was situated on. Father and sons looked up as they slowly traversed up the uneven stone steps, bones hurting mightily as they walked, to see Stoick's mother on the roof, beating out a flame with her helmet.

The banging on the roof and the Chief's wife's excited grunting filled the house even though they had closed the door as they entered. Stoick smelt the air and wrinkled his nose. It became apparent that a dragon, most likely a nimble Terror, had gotten into the house and scorched the table. It lay charred and in a great stack of pieces, completely and utterly broken.

The three men stood there for a moment before their mother and wife burst into the house; Ingrid Haddock, large boned and with twice the lot of bushy hair that the other women had. Her metallic armor over her rough shirt and skirt were covered in soot and ash and her bushy hair was sticking up all over the place from being around so much static electricity. Still, her mood could not be tarnished; she had killed two dragons before sunrise and to her, that was a good way to start the day.

"'Mornin' Liam, boys," she said brightly as she kissed Liam on the cheek and punched each son in the arm, a Viking mother's version of a bear hug.

The three stood there for a moment, watching her as she bustled about, "And, how did things go? Did we lose a-many animals?"

Liam pulled out a large chair from the pile of rubble that was the table and sat down. Spitelout gave Stoick a nervous pat on the back before turning and running up the stairs, tripping over his own feet in his haste. Stoick sighed and listened to his brother's grunts before he finally disappeared upstairs, leaving him all alone with his parents.

Joy.

"Ingrid, there is somethin' that your son wants to tell you," Liam said in his large voice which filled the room. Ingrid stopped chatting and turned, hands on her hips with one hand holding onto a frying pan, to her oldest son, eyes gone from cheery to clearly vexed. Stoick gulped as her eyes squinted and she whispered in a strained voice, "What happened, Stoick?"

Stoick's feet began to slightly shift for a moment, but for only a moment. He was a Viking, and Vikings weren't scared of anyone, even their own parents. _Especially _their own parents.

"I went after a Zippleback," he said firmly.

"And almost got himself killed, he wasn't using his head!" Liam yelled, his voice echoing in the large room.

Ingrid's eyes nearly popped out of her eyes with anger. "Stoick, you stupid teen! Water duty, water duty!" She yelled, punched her hand with her frying pan in emphasis. "YOU'RE BLOODY FIFTEEN!"

"And I'm old enough to make sure I don't get killed by dragons, I WAS FINE!" Stoick said determinedly.

"Ya weren't fine if ya were nearly killed!" Ingrid yelled.

"I was not going to get myself killed, that was the last thing I wanted to do!" Stoick tried to explain. Ingrid would have none of it.

"So ya think you're not goin' to get killed if ya go and attack a Zippleback? That was stupid and bull-headed, Stoick! Ya were supposed to go help fight the fires and ya attack a dragon with no trainin'! Were ya tryin' ta be a hero?" Ingrid wondered, her face gone completely red.

"No, I wasn't, I was TRYIN' to help the village!" Stoick boomed.

"'Cause I think gettin' yourself killed is not really helpin' the village all that much!" Ingrid shouted. "Why can't ya be like Spitelout, at least he can follow orders!"

Stoick's blood boiled. No way in Hel was Spitelout a better order follower than he. Wasn't it Spitelout who never got around to helpin' repair the village houses after a raid, who always had to be told to do things at least twice? "Mom, I disobeyed ONE order, ONE BLOODY ORDER, and I'm bein' compared ta Spitelout? Good grief, if he's such a better order follower than me, make him chief, because apparently all I do is whatever the Hel I want on whatever whim I'm doin'!"

Ingrid stepped forward and looked into his eyes. It was a hard thing to do, considering she was only five foot eight, but she was doing a pretty good job.

"Don't you DARE talk to me that way, Stoick! I am your mother, if ya haven't noticed!" That made Stoick stop talking, but it didn't stop making him boil on the inside.

Ingrid looked him over for a moment before saying in her accented voice, "And remember that." She turned and headed back to the stove, anger emitting off her like the sun. Stoick exhaled and trudged back up to his room, leaving a fuming Ingrid to tend to her husband's burns.

The two brothers didn't share rooms, though they were both very small rooms and they would have been two rooms if there wasn't a thin wall separating them. Whilst the brothers got along with each other (most of the time, boys can't get along together ALL the time), they both liked having their own room. Still, the wall was thin, and they were able to talk through it to each other.

However, at the present time, there had just been a raid and a yelling and Stoick really didn't feel like talking to his brother. Spitelout seemed to feel the same way, for when Stoick sank down onto his bed, he could hear his brother's snores coming from his room. Stoick grunted and seized his pillow and covered his head to try to block out his noise.

Stoick was content to lay on his bed forever, but when he heard his mother holler, "BREAKFAST!", his stomach and conscience overpowered his will and he went and punched Spitelout to wake him up. The younger of the brothers choked on his own spit as he sat up and punched his chest to get breath down his gullet.

"Breakfast," Stoick said soberly as he left the room. Spitelout nodded and went after him. The two carefully made their way down the stairs, Spitelout almost hiding behind his brother's large and now welcome back.

Ingrid was busy scooping a blob of porridge into two large bowls. Two slightly emptied bowls lined the counter and Liam was nowhere in sight. He probably scarfed down breakfast like an unpleasant medicine and hopped out the door to survey the damage and take inventory.

Seeing as the table was burnt to pieces the boys held their bowls with their hands as they sat in their chairs and ate.

Ingrid was still fuming, Stoick could tell, but she made an effort to keep her voice firm and steady as she said, "Once you're both done, Spitelout, build a new table. Stoick, go outside and find your father. He found a punishment for you."

Stoick stopped eating. Wait, after all that yelling he was going to be punished? He wasn't a child anymore, he was fifteen. What kind of punishment would he be getting?

This information made him eat slower and he looked longingly at his bowl as he gave it to his mom to wash. He sighed and headed outside. Might as well take his punishment.

Once he was down the stone steps leading to his home, he looked around the village. The sun had finally fully risen over the town, showing off the little shadows of the houses. No, actually, upon closer inspection, the shadows was instead burnt wood. Stoick watched as Vikings tore off the burnt wood that crumbled beneath their fingers and started to hammer on new boards.

Stoick sighed once again and decided to head toward the fields. His father was probably taking inventory of the sheep. It was just barely September but Vikings had to plan ahead, at least, they did when food was involved.

He carefully made his way to the fields, stepping over fallen buildings and avoiding little children. The little tykes were constantly running around with little wooden swords and small shields, constantly sneaking about and attacking people's tree trunk legs. Their little efforts to kill you didn't even hurt; their fighting was more annoying than anything.

Stoick made his way down to the grassy hill, which was sporting great patches of burnt foliage. Vikings were trying to build a gate that would surround the sheep. Stoick really saw no point in that. Maybe they were hoping that since the dragons had carried off lots of them, that the remaining sheep wouldn't run off like they did occasionally.

By the time he found himself surrounded by wooly sheep, the pen was built and the Viking men were starting to grab the sheep by their coats and toss them into the pen, where they landed with a BA!

Stoick spotted Liam amongst the men, talking loudly and flinging sheep left and right. He seemed to not notice his son approaching him until a Viking, Breaknose, grunted and pointed to the red-haired teen. This caused all the Vikings to stare at him, making Stoick feel uncomfortable.

Liam nodded slowly and walked over to his son, flinging sheep over his shoulder. Once he was past them, he placed a hand on Stoick's shoulder and sighed softly.

"Come on," he said gruffly, "I have something to show you."

**WHAT COULD STOICK'S PUNISHMENT BE? WILL SPITELOUT BUILD THE TABLE? ARE THE FLYING SHEEP HARMED? Yeah, lame...things. The flinging sheep was inspired by the deleted scene from GOTNF. It just seemed hilarious for them to just throw sheep over their shoulders. And great, big dragon battling scene! And other teen stuffy stuff.**

**ANNNNDDDDD, that's the update for this month. I'm thinking, I want Stoick to be Hiccup's age 'cause he's going to be in dragon training, but he must have been some freaking HUGE fifteen year old, even taller than Snotlout!**

** Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please, leave a review! May the force be with you.**


	3. Boulders Make Heads Bleed

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. This poor story hasn't been updated in forever, I know, so here's another chapter! **

Stoick stood awkwardly and opened his mouth several times before he said, "What is it?"

Liam jerked his head to his right and flinging one last sheep over his shoulder, he nodded to his son and started walking in that direction. Stoick looked at all the other Viking men, and all at the same time, they jerked their heads in the direction Liam had. Stoick nodded and quickly followed his father. He fell into step with him and after a moment, looked up to see his face out of the corner of his eye. Liam didn't look angry or disappointed now; he looked determined. Deathly determined.

Stoick turned his head back and sighed, and his hands clenched into fists as they walked on. He knew that he would have to take whatever punishment his father inflicted on him, no matter what.

After a few minutes, they had made their way into the spacious and green and dirt covered woods. They passed several trees that were hundreds of feet tall. Stoick raised his head up high to look at them, and only when he realized Liam had stopped did he stop.

They were in front of a very large boulder. Stoick gulped. It was over eight feet tall and as wide as a full grown Viking. He looked at it from side to side.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Liam said, almost fondly.

"Ahh, yes," Stoick said, straightening up. "Very . . . . beautiful."

"Too bad that it has to break," Liam said as he patted the boulder.

Break? What did his dad mean? Did he have to break apart this monstrosity with an axe? Roll it off of a mountain? Eat it? Stoick put his hand over his large stomach protectively.

"How so?" Stoick wondered.

Liam sighed and turned to Stoick. He said in a no-nonsense voice, "Stoick, I don't have to remind you that you were acting compulsive this morning."

"You just did," Stoick couldn't help but mutter. Liam answered him with a swat to the head and, "This isn't a joke, Stoick! You cannot act like that when you become chief!" The chieftain sighed and after a moment continued, "What I want you to do is bang your head against this rock."

Stoick gulped. Oh man, what his dad was asking sounded like it would not only hurt him but make him look stupid too. "And when do I get to stop?"

"Until it breaks," Liam said, and he went off to his chiefly duties.

Stoick watched him leave before sighing. He cracked his fingers expertly and after a moment of trying to figure out how to do his punishment, started to bang his head against the rock.

Oh, hell, did it hurt. Every time he banged it against it, it banged his helmet and himself. He gulped and gritted his teeth as he banged and banged his head against the rock.

Vikings didn't feel pain. If they did, they hid it. Vikings didn't feel pain.

That was what he thought at he banged his head against that boulder. The pain spread through his skull but he didn't dare make any noise or inclination of pain.

He thought, instead of pain, of the ships out in the harbor. They were used for fishing, going out to raid other tribes, and for looking for the dragon's nest. His father and his father before him and all their fathers had been looking for the dragon's nest for centuries, for where the dragons that invaded their village came from, none of the Vikings had a clue.

His father was going to probably host a meeting about trying to find the dragon's nest for the umpteenth time. Stoick would have to sneak into the hall with his friends to hear about it-

BANG. BANG. BANG. His head was still colliding with the boulder. It seemed to be telling him, "Don't do that. Your father wants you to grow up and not try to do such childish things anymore."

The more he thought about it, the more that it was pounded into his head. Vikings didn't do things like that. Vikings were tough, muscly men who tamed forests, controlled seas. He didn't want to NOT be a Viking. He was going to be a Viking.

With every pound against the boulder, he thought to himself (his thoughts were very loud), "I am a Viking. I AM A VIKING!"

He grunted and continued to plow his head forward against the rock. With such force, the boulder rolled out of its spot. Growling, Stoick ran to it and banged his head against it again in a different direction, turning it back to where it was. It kept rolling, and Stoick, yelling now, pounded his head against the boulder.

It made a large lurching sound, and as Stoick straightened, the great ton rock made an ear splitting noise and a small crack started to form at the top. It slowly made its way down, creaking and cracking until with the sound of a tree falling, the boulder cracked into two uneven, large parts.

They fell on their back, and Stoick watched them fall. His forehead was covered in blood and he had a monstrous headache coming along, but as he took deep breaths, he felt a sense of proud sweeping over him. The knowledge that he had just done something like this out of sheer strength and determination made him feel proud indeed, and with a grim, small smile, he stepped over the halves and walked up to see his father watching him.

Stoick looked at him blindly, for the blood was pouring down his face, coating his eyebrows and shielding his vision. He could make out his father saying, "I just came down here to check on ya. See ya broke the damn thing."

"Yes, I did," Stoick replied. His father made a tiny effort at a smile and said, "Come on, then."

The two walked on through the woods for a few minutes before Liam said, "I suppose if you're big enough to break a boulder like that, you can come along and listen to the meeting."

A little disoriented, Stoick asked, "What meeting?"

"I've called for another meeting to discuss the dragons. Spout was able to catch a glimpse of where the dragons came from, which direction they went, and we're thinking of going that way," Liam told him.

Stoick thought a moment before nodding grimly, and the father and son both headed toward the Meeting Hall.

* * *

Inside the Great Hall was a great mass of steel-plated, sweaty and hairy covered flesh that were arguing about who knows what. They didn't stop as Liam and Stoick made their way through. The atmosphere was not surprising to Stoick, even when he had never been to a meeting before. It was natural that when a group of Vikings gathered that they were exceptionally loud.

"Alright, alright, calm down before I throw a punch or two," Liam said calmly. Several Vikings looked at him strangely.

"I say that we go out and search for it, and then take it out!" Liam pounded the table with a fat fist. "It'll be better 'en just tryin' to keep them away from us!"

"That's a dangerous expedition, though, Liam," a Viking by the name of Codfish said. He was one of the larger men, yet he didn't seem to be too sure about the plan.

Liam's face turned red as he said firmly, "I don't care. The dragons are tearing down this village faster than we can build it back up! There is NO CHOICE!" His fist pounded again and he pointed to men from the right and the left.

"We're leaving, first thing in the morning," he said. "Start packing up."

At that, the men started to disperse, talking, muttering, among themselves. They soon were almost cleared out when Stoick turned to his dad.

Liam's eyes were fixated on the map in front of him. The map had several islands of it, with a mist on the left side, for no one knew what was beyond that. Fierce waves, dragons flying and words written in the Norse language was written with arrows pointing everywhere.

"Ya can go now, Stoick," he said, not looking away from the map. "Go tell your ma if ya'd like."

Stoick nodded and headed outside. Closing the heavy doors behind him, he thought of where he should go first. Ma didn't need to know at this moment, for she was still in that mood that made him cringe, and it took a lot to make him cringe, for he was a Viking.

Stoick decided and headed out to the smithy to talk to Gobber. The Viking apprentice was hard at work in the smithy. Blubber was watching him critically, his sharp eyes darting around as he hammered and pounded and clanked the hard pieces of metal.

Gobber was dunking a blade into a barrel of water when Stoick came up. Gobber looked up and said, surprised, "Oh, Stoick, what 'appened to yer face?"

"My face?" Stoick said after a moment, and raising a hand to his face, he remembered the rock. "I was . . . . uh, banging my head against a rock."

"And why on earth gave ya the notion to do that?" Gobber said as he put the blade down.

Stoick sighed and looked around a moment before leaning in and whispering, "It was my punishment, for, ya know, this morning."

"Aye, I see," Gobber said understandingly. "Tell me about it. Staying here with no one but Blubber isn't very nice a'tall."

He bent down to grab the blade to but to his surprise, it was nowhere to be seen.

"Stupid trolls," Gobber scowled.

Stoick smiled slightly and explained what had happened to Gobber. The apprentice nodded and added a sarcastic remark every now and then.

"It taught me something, Gobber. Vikings can do anything they want to if they set their minds to it!" Stoick said proudly as Gobber started to hammer another blade.

"Aye, bet ya got a headache," Gobber said.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Your head still hurt?"

"A little, but-"

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes! Gobber! For the love of-"

"Ya might want a rock to your head. Knocks ya straight out, and when ya wake up, yer head doesn't hurt anymore," Gobber supplied further. Sparks flew about him and his teeth stuck out at odd angles as he grinned somewhat evilly, it seemed to Stoick.

"No, ya just wake up with a bigger headache," Stoick continued.

"Really? Okay," Gobber said dryly, clearly not impressed by anything Stoick said.

"Well, after that, guess what?" Stoick asked his friend excitedly.

Gobber let out an exhausted breath and asked, "What?"

"Dad let me go with him to a meeting in the Great Hall. They're going to have an expedition to search for the dragons' nest. Do you know what this means, Gobber?" Stoick asked him.

Gobber shrugged. "They'll freeze their butts off like they usually do?"

"Gobber, I'm being serious! They could find the nest, take it, and then there'd be no more dragons around here! Almost three hundred years, they've been plaguing us! Do you still want them too? No!" Stoick told him.

"Can we go?" Gobber said. Stoick smiled and laughed at his friend's sudden interest.

"Sorry, boys, none of ya are," said a voice. Both teens turned to see Blubber approaching them. Out of the corner of his eye, Stoick saw his father walking away.

"Why not?" Gobber asked, though he sighed as though he already knew the answer. He had work to do. A lot of work, especially since there was just a raid.

"Because," Blubber said, putting his hands on his hips, "ya'll both be in dragon training."

**Gosh, UPDATING TAKES ME FOREVER. WHY. WHY MUST I SUFFER WRITER'S BLOCK? THIS IS WHY I'M BETTER WITH ONE-SHOTS. Oh wells. I hope you liked it, and please, review!**


	4. Dragon Training

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Here's a chapter update for this story. Does ANYBODY like this story? Nobody tells me anything. . . .**

"Dragon training?" Gobber blubbered out, and he instantly dropped the iron sword onto the ground, nearly puncturing Blubber's giant foot, which stuck out like a duck's flipper. His hands went up and he pumped his fists. "Yes!"

Stoick couldn't help but grin as well. Dragon training! The thing he had been waiting for since he was no bigger than his father's knee. Dragon training meant that they would be becoming Vikings, real Hairy Hooligans, ready to take on the beasts invading their island and get away with fighting them. Stoick was particularly excited, because he was going to be the Chief one day, and taking down dragons and mounting their heads on his walls would be one of his triumphant victories along with whatever he did as Chief.

"When, when are we?" Gobber asked excitedly as Blubber, looking red and annoyed with his apprentice, pointed to the fallen sword. The blacksmith apprentice ducked to avoid a swing to his head as he picked up the sword and looked back up eagerly.

"Tomorrow after the boats leave," Blubber said in an annoyed voice, not amused by either of them. Grunting, he turned back and picked up a long axe. He grunted again and plopped it into Gobber's arms, making the teen dip slightly. "Your fathers will be gone, and I'LL be in charge of training!"

"You?" both teens couldn't help but say.

"Ya got a problem w'th that?" Blubber said, his beard bristling.

"Naw, just makin' sure," Gobber said, dumping the weapons onto the table in front of him.

Blubber frowned harder and said, "All of the young'ns will be doin' it and I expect neither of ya to fail," and he turned away from them, muttering under his breath at them.

"Dragon training, Gobber," Stoick said breathlessly as Blubber turned around a corner. "This is the first step to being real Vikings, Gobber!"

"Yep," Gobber said as he sighed and picked at his ear, trying to decide which weapon to take care of. He eventually picked up an axe and said, "Well, let's hope we survive. You never know with Blubber, especially after workin' w'th him, I know he'll be a hell of a teacher."

* * *

It was early the next morning when a fierce noise rang through the Chief's household. Stoick and Spitelout were woken by a large horn that Ingrid kept in the kitchen. They both came downstairs to find her stirring a pot of porridge fiercely, as if she was annoyed with it instead of Stoick. Stoick simply gulped and took his seat at the new table (which was a bit lopsided) across from Spitelout and waited as she took a large spoon and sent mounts of sticky goop onto their wooden plates.

"Hurry up, n'w," Ingrid grumbled as she went back to the fire. "Your father is already 't there, readyin' to get goin'. Hurry up or we'll miss the launch."

Stoick and Spitelout, true to form, scooped the messy food straight into their mouths with their hands. After a minute or so, they dropped the wooden plates next to the wash bucket. Ingrid straightened and wiped her huge hands off with a rag before leading the three of them out of the Haddock house.

It was a bright, early morning in Berk. The light that spilled from the sun was a greyish color, setting a sort of grim but cheery mist over the day. Vikings liked grey days opposed to bright yellow sunned ones. Those were strange and annoyingly optimistic.

The three Haddocks made their way through the crowd of Hooligans, who were all making their way down to the harbor to see off the Viking men. Ingrid, known for her loud, almost manly yelling voice, used it now to part the sea of people.

"EXCUSE ME, I AM THE CHIEF'S WIFE, I SUGGEST YOU MOVE SO I CAN SAY GOODBYE TO HIM OR ELSE I'M GONNA THROUGH A FEW PUNCHES," Ingrid yelled, throwing out her arms.

Stoick and Spitelout simply frowned and looked mad at everyone, for that was all they could do to match their mother's fury. They were not angry at all; well, they were a bit annoyed at having to wake up very early, but that was about it. Still, they could not be viewed as sissies who let their mother go ahead of them to make people get out of their way.

They came to the end of the descending dock and it didn't take that long to locate Liam Haddock. He was tall, ordering about the Vikings in filling up the ships for conquest. In his hand he held the map of the Archipelagos and on his face was a fiery look in his eye.

"Hell'o, Liam!" Ingrid said as the three approached him from behind. She stepped forward and gave him a grizzly hug and a smooch on the nose before letting him go.

"Hell'o, Ingrid," Liam said in a booming voice. He had been ordering people around all morning and had not once leveled his voice down.

Ingrid smiled and shoved the two teens forward.

"Hello, Father, nice day for going looking for dragons," said Spitelout as his father gave him a nuzzle on the head.

"Aye," said Liam proudly as he let Spitelout go. "It's going ta be a good day to be out at sea." He looked around and shouted out, "Alright, HURRY UP LADS, WE'RE LEAVIN' IN TWO MINUTES! GET YOUR BLOODY SORRY BUTTS ONTO THE DECKS!"

He smiled and turned back to his small family. He looked from the proud looking Ingrid to the tired but happy looking Spitelout to his oldest. At seeing his oldest, he frowned.

"Stoick, c'mere," he said quietly (it was the first thing he had said in a quiet voice all day).

Stoick stepped forward and Liam put his gigantic hands on his oldest son's shoulders. Stoick remained tall, even though Liam put about twenty pounds of pressure on each of his shoulders. Thing was, the Chief didn't even try and was not even conscious of the fact that he was doing that; it was just that Vikings had an unnatural strength that they used everyday.

"Yes, Father?" Stoick said in a quiet voice that rumbled like a volcano. His voice was beginning to get very deep and gruff.

"Look, Stoick, I want you to know that I only punished you to get some sense into your head, a'ight?" Liam told him.

"Of course, Father," said Stoick calmly.

"I want you and your brother to do well in dragon training while I'm gone, and when I come home, I want good reports from Blubber or you'll both get a whooping, got it?"

Stoick smirked, his beard going up and down as he nodded. "Of course."

Liam smiled now and pounded Stoick on the arm as he stepped back. "Alright, then. Spitelout, remember, I want one of you two to do best in dragon training, a'ight?"

"Believe me, we'll have them beat," Spitelout said just as a horn rang through the harbor and the captain yelled, "WE'RE SIGNIN' OFF! WE'RE LEAVIN', A'IGHT? LET'S GO!"

"You better!" Liam said. Spitelout and Stoick both turned and jumped off of the tall decks onto the harbor. Once they landed (and the deck trembled dangerously), Ingrid came hopping down beside them.

She straightened and turned to wave to Liam.

"BYE, LIAM DEAREST!" she yelled as the large weights were drawn up and the oars came out and the ships slowly started to go off to the ocean.

"GOODBYE, INGRID, BOYS!" shouted Liam, who looked like he was having a normal conversation the way that he shouted. He waved to the three of them pleasantly and then turned back to the steering wheel to keep an eye on the captain.

The boys waved until the early morning mist made their father disappear away into the sea.

"A'ight," said Ingrid loudly, turning to her two boys. Her hands on her hips, she said, "Now, be gettin' to dragon trainin', both of you, now!"

"Now? But it's so EARLY," said Spitelout.

"I don't care if it's in the middle of the night and neither does Blubber, head out, now!" said Ingrid.

"Of course. C'mon, Spite, let's get to dragon training," said Stoick, and the three started back up the long harbor deck.

"C'mon, Stoick, it's so EARLY," repeated Spitelout tiredly.

"So?" grinned Stoick. "We're goin' to go to dragon trainin', Spitelout, this is somethin' we've been looking forward to this our whole lives!"

"That's true," said Spitelout, "but I was expectin' it to be less early when we started off our adult lives," and he yawned.

* * *

They all gathered in front of the arena, waiting entrance into the ring. There was Stoick, holding an axe and wearing a determined look as Gobber, trying to cool, carried an axe and tried to talk to him.

"So, ya excited, Stoick?"

"Yes, I am, Gobber," said Stoick in a calm, serious voice.

Gobber rolled his eyes.

Beside them were the Nutty siblings. Buffnut was trying to flirt with Vall, showing off his not so buff muscles. Vall looked like she was trying to talk to him but he was ignoring her with his own words. He was quickly knocked over by a wrestling Huffnut and Hilda, who were both rolling around with each other, pulling at each other's hair and yelling insults at each other. They flattened Buffnut quite easily; it was a bit embarrassing.

Stonebone and Phlegma came along a bit after the others had come. Phlegma, her braids bouncing about, was wielding her battle axe and said, "Has Blubber shown his face yet?"

Stoick and Spitelout shook their heads and Gobber said, "Not yet. Probably still sleeping."

"Hope so, I'm as tired as a horse," said Phlegma, yawning, looking not that tired in the least.

Stonebone said, "Well, I don't mind waiting for him."

"Do any of us?" asked Vall as the two girls rolled past her, cursing and swearing at each other.

"Naw," said Phlegma as she leaned against the wall next to Spitelout. She looked casually, almost bored, at Huffnut and Hilda and said, "What provoked them?"

Stoick, Spitelout, Stonebone and Gobber all shrugged. Vall raised up her hands in innocence and said, "I dunno. One minute they're throwing insults at each other, perfectly normal, and then poof, they're like . . . that . . " and she pointed to their melded bodies, jingling from their armored clothes.

"That's perfectly normal for them too, though," pointed out Gobber.

"True," said Vall, shrugging. She smiled and turned back to the boys and said, "Heard your mother at the harbor this morning. Went to see your father off?"

"Yep," said Spitelout.

"My dad went with them," said Vall, "with him on board, they're bound to find the dragon's nest."

"I thought your father was Old Wrinkly?" asked Stoick. Old Wrinkly was indeed Vall's father. He was not the most Viking like of all the Vikings. He was more of a medicine man that spent most of his time indoors.

"So what if he is?" Vall wanted to know. "He's a good person."

"A bit loony if you ask me," Spitelout whispered into Stoick's ear.

"What did you say?" Vall asked ruffly as she approached Spitelout. "My father is a very good Viking, for your information, Chief's son!"

Stoick gulped uncomfortably as Spitelout and Vall went nose to nose. This would not do for Spitelout to be arguing with the girls, especially Vall, who was particularly hard to beat in a fight, even more than Hilda.

Speaking of the girl, she had gotten on top of Huffnut and was preparing to spit in her face. Huffnut was wriggling and baring her teeth, ready to sink her fangs when she needed to.

Stoick and Stonebone exchanged a look and they both hoped that Blubber would show up soon.

Spitelout and Vall were hissing insults to each other and Stoick felt the older brotherly urge to protect his brother. Still, he knew that Spitelout should be careful in picking his own fights, and it would not be very Vikingy of his younger brother to be protected by him from a girl in front of everyone else. So, he suppressed it and looked around impatiently for Blubber.

Fortunately, the man showed his face a moment before Spitelout and Vall got into a brawl.

"Alright, let's get inta the ring, and no fightin'!" shouted Blubber in an irritated sort of voice. Stoick was sure that teaching a bunch of teenagers how to defeat dragons was not something he had wanted to do.

The blacksmith heaved and opened the large metal gate that separated the arena from the rest of the village and added, "At least, not until we're in the ring."

He walked in front, and Stoick walked behind him. After him came Buffnut, who was holding down Huffnut, and Stonebone, who was frantically trying to keep Hilda at bay. Phlegma came next followed by Vall and Spitelout (who were glaring dangerously at each other) and Gobber brought up the rear, closing the gate when Blubber shouted for him to.

They all looked around the ring, amazed. The entire thing was enormous and none of them had been in the actual arena. They had always been in the stands, watching and waiting for their turn in the ring. Now, they were going to be training here.

Stoick let out a low whistle and looked around to see the vast doors; the only things protecting them from vicious dragon beasts that were ready to tear them apart. He smiled to himself and tightened his grip on his axe; he was ready.

Buffnut and Gobber each let out a wolf whistle.

"This looks amazing. So, let's get crackin'!" said Gobber excitedly, looking to Blubber. Their trainer had wandered away from their group and had headed toward one of the doors.

"Exactly what I was thinkin'," said Blubber. His large arm went and prepared to open the door. "Your very first lesson is going to be with a Gronckle. Remember, this is a very stupid and heavy dragon."

"Wait! Aren't you going to teach us first?" Hilda wanted to know, stopping herself from punching Huffnut long enough to look to Blubber.

Blubber smiled an evil, very evil grin, and said calmly, "I believe in learning on the job."

Gobber looked to Stoick and said, "I'm gonna so use that line someday."

Stoick grinned and the two turned determined as the gate came up and a Gronckle came spinning out of its cage. It flew low to the ground and over Hilda, Stonebone and Phlegma, nearly knocking them over.

"Lesson number one: defending yourself from a Gronckle. What is the first thing you're gonna need?" called Blubber as he leaned against the wall, watching the scene with only mild interest.

"A shield!" yelled Vall, Stoick, Gobber and Stonebone at the same time. Stoick swiveled around and noticed a pile of shields in the corner. He turned to see that the Gronckle was busy scratching itself behind its ear on the other side of the ring. Good, it was distracted.

He quickly turned and ran toward the shields. Unfortunately, that was where the other eight Viking teens were headed, and in their quest to get a shield, they ended up bumping heads. This provoked a bit of arguing as those who were lucky enough to get a shield slowly shifted their way out of the squabble.

The five teens who got out of the fighting were Vall, Stoick, Spitelout, Buffnut and Stonebone, and all held their shields out with one hand and held their axes tightly, ready to take on the Gronckle, which was now circling the ring.

"Very good, now how many shots does a Gronckle have before it gives out?" asked Blubber.

"Six!" shouted Buffnut, which was a surprise since the lad wasn't exactly the scholarly type nor the smartest in the group.

"That's right, Buffnut, so if the thing aims right, there should be . . . um . . . three of you left after this!"

"ALIVE?" Phlegma yelled in an annoyed tone of voice, no doubt because of the casualness that Blubber was taking with this.

"Well, that'll work, but I was thinking that ya MIGHT WANT TO, YOU KNOW, PROTECT YOURSELVES WITH YOUR SHIELDS SO THAT THEY GET HIT INSTEAD. Just a suggestion, of course," Blubber said, yawning.

"Thanks for the advice, BLUBBER!" Stonebone yelled sarcastically as he aimed a throw of his axe toward the Gronckle. It missed the wart covered chubby flying potato and only made him look around and spot and target Stonebone.

"Damn it," Stonebone groaned and he began to run as the Gronckle came barreling toward him. He ran around the ring, making most of the trainees drop their shields for a moment to watch. There was a bunch of weapons waiting in a barrel by the shields and Stonebone immediately reached out and grabbed one of the axes and leaned back and threw it toward the Gronckle.

It made a cut in the Gronckle's shoulder, making the trainees all cheer and Blubber say, "Well done lad, but remember, it still has six shots!"

"Damn it again!" said Stonebone, grinding his teeth.

Gobber leaned to Stoick and said, "How do ya think he's doin'?"

"He's surviving, isn't he? Not to mention he hasn't gotten hit yet," Stoick pointed out as Stonebone made a grab for a double sword. The hilt of the weapon was doubled and so you could hold two swords at once.

"That's only because it's so early that the Gronckle is groggier than usual. Any other time, he would be hit by now," said Gobber matter-of-factly.

Stoick nodded and the two kept their eyes on Stonebone, who held out the sword magnificently, but his shield ended up getting charred.

"Aw, man," groaned Stonebone as Blubber shouted casually, "C'mon, Stonebone, you're out! Now, the rest of ya, GET IN THERE OR I'LL RELEASE ANOTHER DRAGON, IF YOU'RE THAT BORED!"

The other eight trainees quickly became involved as the Gronckle spun around to face the line of flesh and weapons. He licked his eye and then began to fly toward them, spinning in little circles as he did so. He looked not that harmful; that is, he didn't until he released a fireball at Spitelout.

It hit his shield in the center and he ducked out of the way as Blubber shouted, "You're out, Spitelout!"

Spitelout, frowning, ran to join Stonebone and Blubber away from the Gronckle as said dragon circled around the seven teens, making them group up.

"Use your axes to hit your shields. Noise like that distracts them and makes them confused," advised Blubber, sounding as bored as hell. Stoick was now a bit curious as to how he had procured the teaching job.

Focusing, Stoick took his axe and began to pound it, side against wood, against his shield. He banged it a few times before looking up. The other teens had started this as well, and the Gronckle was looking slightly nauseous as its eyes began to cross. It began to move from side to side and was looking dizzy.

Stoick grinned but stopped when suddenly the Gronckle let out a stray shot, making the teens run as it blasted the ground.

"Missed ya! Keep it moving, I want to see ya take this Gronckle down! No need to kill it, just take it down!" commanded Blubber.

Stoick nodded to no one in particular. There had to be a way that took down the Gronckle without getting shot or killing it. He sure did WANT to kill it but as Blubber had told him not to and his father was against him doing it just yet, he decided against it. He just needed to knock it out.

Looking determined, Stoick looked to the Gronckle, who was currently looking over Phlegma and Hilda. Its confused eyes locked on the pair of them, whose backs were against each others, and it sent a fireball in their direction.

The girls groaned and held up their shields to protect their bodies as they crouched. The fireball skidded across both of their shields, making Blubber call them out.

Good. There was two less people to watch out for and beat. Stoick made a quick scan around the arena as he ran toward the Gronckle, which was currently ignoring him and scratching its eye with its hind leg. There was Gobber, who was repositioning his shield; Huffnut, who was nimbly skipping around, holding her weapons as if they barely weighed anything; Buffnut, who was crouched with a deathly look on his face behind the pile of weapons, his eyes looking calculatingly toward the Gronckle.

There was himself and lastly Vall, who was looking with a grim grin at the Gronckle. She suddenly leapt forward and began to shout, "C'MERE, YOU MANGY PIECE OF FILTH!" The Gronckle turned and looked to her, a crazed look on its face.

"Yeah, yeah, COME AT ME," said Vall gleefully.

"Ya suicidal?" Stoick shouted.

Vall averted her attention from the Gronckle to Stoick and laughing, "What kind of a question is that?"

Stoick frowned and watched as the Gronckle approached her. He sighed. She was about to take the dragon down, and he was going to at least take a part in doing so that he wouldn't be the one who didn't take first in the first class.

He ran to Vall, who was holding out her axe as the Gronckle came barreling toward her.

"Came to join the fun, Stoick?" Vall said with a smile as the Gronckle made a little roar.

"Yeah, mind if I cut in?" Stoick said and he quickly darted toward the Gronckle, axe ready to take it down.

"If you can keep up," smiled Vall, and she let out a mighty battle cry and ran toward the Gronckle as well.

The Gronckle flew over the two of them, only a couple of feet from their heads. What was a way to knock it out without killing it? Well, Stoick knew that Blubber never said anything about not HURTING the thing. A quick slicey dicey outta make it fall.

"Let's aim for the wings," shouted Stoick.

"Right, to make him not fly, good idea," said Vall, and the two instantly went around so that they were on either side of the Gronckle. The Gronckle, noticing that his prey was out of his vision, spun around, sending out a fireball that nearly hit Huffnut. The girl let out a noise that sounded like a shriek married a roar and Blubber yelled, "PAY ATTENTION, HUFFNUT!"

"I AM!" shouted Huffnut huffily as she stood up straight.

Stoick and Vall ignored them as they circled the dragon, trying to keep up with its persist spinning. The wings were just out of reach and they were never going to win this class if they didn't get it down.

Vall made a swing at its wing, and it roared, spinning around to fire a fireball at her. Just as she dodged, Stoick made a swing at its wings. By turning like that to Vall, he had a chance to get a direct hit.

He got it, and the Gronckle let out a loud roar. He tugged out the axe, revealing it to be bloody. Stoick straightened and looked to Vall, who was quickly getting back up.

"Brilliant, Stoick!" she shouted. She brandished her axe and shouted, "Now get out of my way; it's my turn!"

Stoick knew it was her turn, but why? He had hit it and wounded it; why couldn't he take it down? He didn't want to give the honor of taking down the first dragon to Vall.

"No, wait a minute!" Stoick shouted as he lifted up his weapon.

"C'mon, Stoick! OUTTA MY WAY!" shouted Vall, and she made a move to hit the Gronckle.

It somehow, in their conversation, had moved its potato like body out of the way, and Vall missed, making her bend on her knees and snarl.

The Gronckle swiveled its body toward Stoick and swerved down so that it almost hit his head.

"How many shots does it have left?" called Blubber.

Stoick knew that Spitelout and Stonebone had both been taken out with one shot each. Hilda and Phlegma had been taken out with one shot, and the Gronckle had fired a stray one that hadn't hit anybody. Huffnut had been fired at as had the two of them. That was six.

"He's out!" Stoick shouted. He was practically harmless now, except for, of course, his teeth and huge body weight.

"Alrighty, THEN!" shouted Vall and the two of them jumped up and swished their axes. Stoick brought his axe down, nearly detaching the right wing. The Gronckle let out a dizzy cry and he fell to the ground, nearly flattened the two's feet.

Stoick let out a breath as he backed away. The cut he had inflicted was a bit deeper than it needed to be, but, as he had thought earlier, Blubber hadn't said anything about not hurting it.

Vall's cut was on its side, and it was beginning to bleed green dragon blood. Stoick looked up to see her laughing slightly to herself as she backed away, wiping at her forehead. After a second, she looked up to see Stoick and she instantly became cold.

"Hey, you already hit it. Why couldn't you have just let me finish it off?" she said hotly.

Stoick frowned and thundered, "I had all rights to take it down." Vikings weren't that good at sharing.

Vall frowned harder and was about to yell when Blubber said, "Alright, ya both did it."

Stoick looked around for the first time to see that the other seven trainees and Blubber had gathered around the breathing heavily Gronckle. Huffnut and Hilda were both shooting daggers at each other; Stonebone was whistling as was Buffnut at the size of the thing up close. Phlegma was standing over by Vall, slamming her on the back, and so where was his two boys . . .

"Ya did it!" said Gobber as Spitelout slammed into Stoick, nearly making him fall over.

"I know that," Stoick choked out as Spitelout straightened.

"Sure, ya got a little help from a girl, but -" continued Gobber.

"Shut up, the lot of ya," said Blubber, turning from the injured Gronckle to his students. "That wo'd't a very bad nor a very good first trainin' class." His eyes passed over them carefully and he continued, "Now, report to the Great Hall this evening to talk about who sucked and who didn't. I'll have something for ya then."

"OOOH, a present?" asked Stonebone.

"Oh, I like presents!" said Buffnut excitedly.

"Homework," said Blubber, unamused. Buffnut and Stonebone immediately stopped cheering and looked disappointed as they both groaned in unison. "Now, help me lug this thing into its cage. I'll have to repair it until we can get a new one from the next raid."

With much grunting, swearing and arguing on Hilda and Huffnut's side of the Gronckle, (which was the very back, adding more fuel to their fighting fire than usual), the nine trainees and teacher were able to lug the Gronckle back into its dirty, smelly cage.

They all had to lean and squeeze against the walls to get out of the tight cell and Buffnut melodramatically fell to the ground when he received fresh air, making the guys laugh.

Smiling, Stoick looked to Vall to see her with Phlegma and Hilda and Huffnut. The girl looked particularly annoyed as she held her axe protectively. The other girls noticed him as well, making Huffnut give him a funny face, Hilda give him an even more funny face to annoy Huffnut, and Phlegma lead them to the entrance/exit, saying, "Boys."

"What did you do now?" Gobber asked as he and Spitelout stood on either side of Stoick, watching the girls walk out.

"I don't have a clue," said Stoick. Girls were so complicated; he hadn't a clue at all.

**There y'all go! I hope you did enjoy it, and please let me know what you thought of it!**


	5. How To Train Your Dragon

**Thank you, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Thanks for reading! God bless you!  
**

And as the boys walked out of the arena, Gobber bumped Stoick with his elbow, making Stoick rub his arm and say, "What was that for, Gobber?"

"Look at the ladies," Gobber said. Stoick frowned at him before he stopped rubbing his arm and turned to where Gobber was pointing. Beyond the stone walls of the magnificent arena was the long stone bridge that connected the arena to many different parts of the Archipelago. On the bridge at the moment were the girls. And the girls were all talking to several bigger, older Vikings.

They were proven Vikings that were just a couple of years older than the rest of them. The ones that were always teasing them for being the younger ones who hadn't been in Dragon Training. Stoick cocked his head to the side and said, "Come on, guys." Well. Those insults wouldn't be able to work on them now, seeing as they were in training now.

The group of them went over to the other Vikings. Hilda and Huffnut were not fighting for once and were instead punching the Viking guys in the shoulder. That was the Vikings' way of flirting.

Gobber and Stoick walked slowly, prolonging their way to the bridge. There was Stinkypot, who was talking with Hilda and showing off his big muscles, which were covered in leather, bear skin and weapons that Blubber had no doubt churned out. There was Lob Long, who was talking with Phlegma. Phlegma had a bit more sense when it came to men than the other girls, and she merely talked with Lob Log, who looked positively head over heels in the manliest way possible.

Huffnut was talking with Brawnbear and Biggiester, which was strange, seeing as Huffnut gagged and groaned at the idea of boys. She was weird like that. Vall was the one that Stoick was watching, though. She was trying to tell the girls to hurry up but she had caught the attention of Birchbark, who was talking with his right hand man and a particularly potato nosed man named Axington.

Birchbark was the notorious leader of his gang. Axington followed his personal orders, but they all listened to him. All freckled and blonde and red haired, they were all quite good with Viking ladies. Stoick and Gobber and Spitelout and Stonebone and Buffnut were not.

Stoick attributed that fact to the fact that they were way older than them. None of the others lads quite listened to him, though.

Now they walked over. Birchbark managed to steal his eyes away from Vall to catch sight of them. A handsome face with red hair and a bearskin vest, he looked every part of an ideal Viking, complete with a Viking helmet. He smirked now and said, "Oh, if it isn't the little babies coming in from playing with an itty, bitty Gronckle. Did you try to kill it, Stoick? Or did someone have to save your butt?"

"We were training, Birchbark," Vall said firmly. She sighed and said, "Matter of fact" - she pointed to the chief's oldest son with her axe - "he's the one who took down the Gronckle. I was about to, and then he did."

"Not fast enough to kill it within the first minute like I did?" Birchbark asked her.

"Not everyone can kill a dragon with a belch, Birchbark," Vall told him before turning away and hurrying across the rest of the bridge.

"It was a pretty good belch, though," Birchbark said, turning to Phlegma. "Didn't even have to use a weapon, unlike Story here. I AM a weapon."

"Aye. A pretty clunky one at that," Gobber said, and Stonebone and Buffnut laughed.

Birchbark frowned as he turned away from Phlegma and marched over to Gobber, saying, "Feel good making jokes, Gobber?"

"Oh, he was able to remember a name for once. There's something resemblin' a brain in your skull then, Birdy?" Gobber asked, and he reached up and rapped his fist against Birchback's helmet, sending a thumping noise into the air.

Birchbark looked like he very much wanted to tackle Gobber, but Biggiester called over in a dumb voice, "Hey, Birch. We have to go help with the sheep."

"Didn't make it to the expedition, then?" Stoick asked Birchbark. "Not good enough a Viking, heh?"

Birchbark threw a smirk at Stoick and said, "At least I AM a Viking, Stoick." His posse laughed and he added, "Can't say the same thing about you, can I?"

Stoick looked at him grimly, and was sure that his red hair was burning as Birchbark turned his back, and his posse followed him as they hurried to go keep an eye on the sheep.

Huffnut blew a raspberry in their direction, having not gotten any love.

"Jerks," she said as she and Hilda and Phlegma turned to the boys.

"Can't appreciate a skinny piece of meat isn't a bad thing, Huffy," Hilda said, and Huffnut let out a yell and they started to tackle and wrestle each other on the bridge, perfectly able to fall over the sides at any time.

"I can't see what they see in them," Phlegma said, folding her arms as she watched the wrestling girls.

"What do they have that we don't?" Stonebone asked as they started walking. Hilda and Huffnut rolled in their general direction, moving their way to follow them.

"Muscles. Viking status. Responsibility, and lovely, flowing locks," Phlegma said sarcastically before she turned away from them.

Stoick frowned. Was that what a girl wanted in a guy? He had stuff like that. He had muscles, very large ones in fact. They'd only get bigger in training. He was the son of the chief. That was as much status he needed. He should have girls falling over him. Who wouldn't want to be the future chief's wife?

He was going to have responsibility when he became chief, and his hair . . . . his hair needed work. He didn't even know if he owned a comb or something. He could use a knife to go through it, right?

He shook his head and he and Spitelout headed to their house on the top of the hill. They needed to clean their weapons before the next fight.

* * *

Having been grudgingly ordered there by Blubber on official training business, Spitelout, Gobber and Stoick met up and headed up to the Great Hall. A crisp breeze filled the air as they made their way through the village. It was late in the evening, and everyone was quietly walking about, working on their work, arguing. An occasional fight could be seen, but that was normal. Life in a Viking village was particularly rough and tumble. It was all quite normal to the boys.

They walked up the great steps of the Great Hall, the meeting place of Berk. It was already warm and cozy looking as men lit the torches that were about the building. The wood echoed with age and intricate details as another delicious, warning wind blew past the three.

"Gettin' ready to storm, I should say," Gobber said as they mounted the great amount of stairs.

Spitelout nodded and moved to open the great doors. Stoick turned to Gobber and said, "It's not snow, and e'veryone has provisions. The houses are nearly repaired. We should be fine."

"Let's hope so. I re'lly, re'ally don't want to come home to an angry mother," Gobber said as he followed Spitelout and Stoick into the hall. Gobber's mother didn't like it when holes in the roof caused by dragons let rain in.

The Hall was bright and warm. It had several great fireplaces where groups of Vikings sat, drinking mead and toasting and joking and discussing all sorts of things. There was a lot of old tables where they all could congregate. The three lads spotted the table where the rest of their training class was and joined them just as the first roll of thunder hit Berk.

"Loud," Gobber said cheerfully as they all sat down.

"Hope Blubber can't make it," Stonebone said as he shoved three plates in their general direction. "I don't want to do anymore training stuff today."

"Yeah. That Gronckle nearly killed our sorry butts," said Buffnut, watching Hilda and Huffnut as they gripped at each other's Viking helmets and pulled themselves under the table, muttering curses at the other under their breath.

"'Cept Vall and Stoick, though," Phlegma pointed out. She smiled as she looked to both of them and said, "At least they'll become Vikings."

"As for the rest of us," Spitelout said, his head propped on top of his folded arms, "we're doomed."

"Well, that's a cheerful thought," Gobber said.

"We'll all end up getting exiled or something. We'll have to start our own tribe," Buffnut added.

"Or we can join the Outcasts," Huffnut said before Hilda pushed her back down.

Everyone shuddered and shook their heads, Spitelout saying, "You're joking, right, Huffnut?" The Outcasts were the most horrid and unliked and feared Viking tribe in all of the Archipelagos. They were made out of exiled Vikings from several different tribes, and they were merciless.

"Yeah!" Huffnut said, popping up her head. She laughed as she said, "You guys believe ANYTHING!"

"If I get exiled, I guess I'll see if I can join the Bog Burglars. They don't mind exiled girls," Phlegma said. She looked at the boys and said, "Don't know what you all will do."

"We'll fish and die," Stonebone said matter-of-factly. Stoick rolled his eyes and said, "No, you won't!"

"Sounds like a plan, then," Gobber said cheerfully.

"Unfortunately, I won't be lettin' any of you fail," Blubber said as he walked up. He had a Thing in his hand, and everyone bumped in their seats as he tossed the Thing in his hand onto the table.

Stonebone and Phlegma leaned forward and bonked their heads together. They rubbed their foreheads and looked at each other before they looked down at the Thing.

"'How To Train Your Dragon.' Hey, I've heard of that!" Stonebone said as Phlegma picked up the book and looked at it before she sniffed and passed it on to the next trainee.

It came around to Stoick as Blubber said, "This is the 'How To Train Your Dragon' book. Now, I want all of you to read it carefully and listen to it. It's very informative, and if you don't learn what it says, you're in trouble."

Stoick opened it and moved a few of its few pages. The cover was leather and had words made out of strips of leather to form the title of the book. It was written by a Doctor Yobbish. Stoick scoffed and shoved the book back over to Blubber. What kind of Viking read a book, neither mind wrote a book? Who was this Doctor Yobbish?

"Hey, don't just toss it. You're learning the valuable lessons from Doctor Yobbish. Granted, he was a wee bit loo'y, but you have to read it," Blubber said, "protocol. You read it first, Stoick."

"I don't want to read it," Stoick said as he begrudgingly took the book when Blubber put it on top of his helmet.

"None of us do," said Buffnut.

"You're goin' to have to. Or else," Blubber said before he wiped his hands on his vest and said, "I'm going to get a drink. Read up. Want all of you to read it before the next session, which is tomorrow afternoon."

Blubber moved away and Hilda and Huffnut came out from under the table, kicking each other. Stonebone let out a sigh of relief and said, "Now I can stretch my legs."

"Do you think that the training session will be rained out?" Buffnut asked, annoyed.

"Highly doubt it," Vall said crisply. "Even if it does continue raining, do you really think that Blubber will cancel it?"

"He'll prob'bly say something like, 'Training in the rain will toughen you up. That's how you become a Viking!'" Gobber said, imitating Blubber's voice.

"Yay. Nothing like rain, lightning and fighting dragons," said Stonebone as he sighed and finished up his ale.

"I know, right?" said Buffnut before he was pushed off of his bench by Huffnut. She smirked and turned back to everyone else. She waved a hand to Stoick and said, "So, are you actually goin' to read it?"

"What? 'Course not," said Stoick. "Only girlies read books."

"I'm highly offended," Phlegma said stoutly.

"You HAVE to read it, or else Blubber's going to make you suffer in the arena," Huffnut said.

Stoick frowned and pushing the book away, thought quickly and said, "Well, you all 'ave to read it too."

"Yeah, I'll blaze through it," Huffnut said. "I'll read a word and then I'll be done. That counts, right?"

"Well, you'll have read it, I guess, so, yeah! I'll do that too!" Gobber said cheerfully.

Stoick sighed as he swirled his ale around and the group of people sitting with him started to talk about other stuff excitedly, like how many dragons they were going to kill and how many heads they were going to mount on their walls. They barely survived the first session of dragon training, and the only competent ones were himself and Vall. Over time, hopefully, they'd get better, but the way that they were this treating part of their training was not going to help them.

He CERTAINLY did not want to read the How To Train Your Dragon book. He did not like reading at all, but, his father had told him to grow up, and so to do that he'd have to listen to orders. Things like this he'd have to listen to in order to graduate from Dragon Training and become a Viking and member of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.

He sighed. In order to listen and follow orders _and _be an example to hopeful members of the tribe he was going to lead, he'd have to read the book.

He hung out with the other trainees for a while, sipping ale and eating stew and telling jokes and stories. Huffnut and Hilda got into two fights. One was about whose cup was whose and the other was about one of the guys in Birchbark's posse. The five boys rolled their eyes and shook their heads at that.

When the torches were low and the place was nearly empty, they decided that it was time to go get wet and head home in the rain. Opening the doors, they looked out into the pouring rain. The entire outside was dark and slippery. They all sighed.

"THIS is going to be fun," Buffnut said as he grabbed Huffnut by the collar and dragged her off of Hilda. "Night, guys," he said as he went down the stairs, dragging a kicking and clawing Huffnut.

Stoick and Spitelout walked with Gobber until they reached the square, or what they thought was the square.

"See ya tomorrow, lads," Gobber said cheerfully before he turned and walked toward his home. Spitelout and Stoick nodded and they hurried up the great mountain of stairs to their house, hopeful that their mother had had the forethought to tell the sheep herders to take care of the sheep and make sure they didn't get wet.

They entered to see that their mother was busy by the fire, making something or other.

"Evening, boys. Stayed out long enough," she said.

"We're going to be heading to bed," said Spitelout, already on the stairs.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow and said, "All right, then."

Stoick and Spitelout wished her good night and then hurried up the stairs as fast as they could, the sound of rain against the roof above them.

In the dark, they made their way over to where both of their rooms were and Spitelout turned to Stoick and even though he didn't have to, he whispered.

"Are you actually going to read the book tonight, Stoick?"

Stoick sighed and looked at the Thing in his hand. "I suppose I have to."

"Why? You hate readin'."

"Yeah, I know," Stoick replied.

Spitelout scratched the back of his neck and said, "Well, have fun, then."

Stoick frowned and nearly swat at his head but his little brother had gone into his bedroom. Stoick sighed and turned to his own bedroom. Entering, he took off his boots and looked out the window, where rain and moonlight was pouring in. Oh, well. He didn't feel too bothered by having some rain in his room.

He sat on his bed and sighing, looked at the Thing in his two hands. He turned it upside down and flipped it over, buying time he didn't need. Finally, he groaned and opened the book. Oh, he felt pain as he read the first few words, flipped the page and read on. It was mostly an introduction.

He finally came to the book part of the Thing and he was dreading it. How long would it be? How difficult to understand?

He gulped and read aloud the instructions.

"'Yell at it.'"

And the book ended and Stoick looked at it incredulously before throwing it against the wall in annoyance. THAT WAS IT?

"Well, that's a load of rubbish," Stoick said. The How To Train Your Dragon book was supposed to _help _you to train your dragon into getting itself killed by your axe. "How old is this book? We don't even do it this way anymore! We kill them!" He sighed and said, "We don't train dragons."

**I know, a bit of a stretch. I wanted to include the actual How To Train Your Dragon book and some stuff from the books into this. I hope you liked it, and thank you for reading! God bless you!  
**


	6. The Deadly Nadder

**Thank you, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Yay, an update! Expect one a month or so, seeing my pattern of updating. Oi. :) God bless you!  
**

"So, ya mean that they actually DON'T have any instructions in the book. What a load of rubbish," said Spitelout. He and Stoick were at the sheep flocks. It was the next morning and they were surrounded by their father's flock of quietly baaing sheep.

Stoick sighed and threw a sheep over his shoulder (they were going to take them over to the lake to get them watered) and said, waving his hands around, "NO, there WAS an instruction. ONE instruction. Just YELL at it."

"Sounds instructive, though," Spitelout pointed out. He threw a few lambs and said, "But that's not supposed to help us defeat dragons."

"That's because it's old and dated. We used to train some dragons when we were defeating them, but we've long stopped with that trade," Stoick said, annoyed, and he threw sheep after sheep over his shoulder, nearly hitting Spitelout and other sheep herders on several occasions.

"Then why does Blubber want us to read it? He doesn't actually think we LIKE readin', does he?" Spitelout asked. He looked alarmed as he said, "I don't give off the impression that I like readin', do I?"

Stoick sighed and threw one more sheep across the grey sky. Rain clouds rumbled as he turned to Spitelout and said, "No, ya don't. He wants us to read it because it's old fashioned. It's outdated, but it worked. At ONE point in time. We've moved on from that part of time, and now we're goin' to have to do a lot more than YELLIN' to defeat them."

Spitelout nodded and Stoick, looking around at the grey, baaing, bored looking herd of sheep, said, "Let's take them to the lake."

Taking up staffs, they hurried their sheep to the lake in the woods. They had to be quick, in case sudden dragons showed up on an attack. An attach would cause the sheep to freak out and clumsily try to run away from the mammoth monsters. They would look quite comical doing so, but it was dangerous, for the sheep were a massive part of living on Berk. They provided wool and food, two things that they needed a lot of.

Luckily, they were able to get to the lake without any delay. Still, Stoick kept watch while Spitelout hurried the sheep to the water.

"Make sure none of them fall in," Stoick reminded Spitelout from his viewing rock.

"I may look it, but I'm not stupid," Spitelout said, and at that moment, one of the little lambs nonchalantly walked into the lake. Stoick sighed, mopping his face with his hand as Spitelout quite easily fished the little thing out. He patted the animal off and set it back on the ground before he turned and said, "Stoick?"

"What?" Stoick said, not looking at him as he watched the dark woods and the grey sky that was rumbling loudly.

"What are we supposed to do, then? What instructions are we supposed to use to defeat dragons now?" asked Spitelout.

Stoick squinted and said, "I hear that there's another book. The Dragon Manual. I suppose that might help us."

"We're going to have to read more?"

"Yeah, it's either that or learn it on the job, Spite," Stoick said, looking around carefully. "Should be fun."

It was at that moment that two other teens came to the lake with their sheep. Both were younger by a couple of years, and they were the bestest of friends. One had long yellow hair, and what appeared to be a bucket on his head. The other was already sporting a beard and had long, dark hair that fluffed up all around his face.

"Stoick! Spitelout!" the dark haired one said.

"Hello Mulch, Bucket," Spitelout said, making Stoick look to the two lads leading in their sheep. Stoick looked a bit bemused as he said, "Mulch, why does Bucket have a bucket on his head?"

"He wanted to make himself actually WEAR a bucket. To go with his name," Mulch explained. He looked over with a sigh to Bucket, who was trying to adjust the bucket but to no avail. "He hasn't gotten it unstuck, though."

"He's going to have to wear it forever?" asked Spitelout.

"I guess so," Mulch said, shrugging. He waved for the sheep to hurry to the water and looking up to Stoick, he said excitedly, "I heard you took down the first dragon in dragon training!"

"Nah, well-"

"Oh, I heard you cut off the dragon's head!" Bucket said excitedly, his long hair waving back and forth as he jumped about.

"Really, Stoick?" asked Mulch, looking very impressed with the older boy.

"No-"

"I heard that-"

"I DIDN'T, ALL RIGHT! I DEFEATED IT ALONG WITH VALL! IT DIDN'T DIE, ALL RIGHT?" Stoick said harshly, looking down from his rock.

Mulch and Bucket looked not very scared as they said, "Oh, all right! Sounds good, Stoick!"

Stoick only sighed. They were both very thick-headed teens, and he was only glad that he was not their age so that they'd HAVE to be friends.

* * *

After taking care of the sheep, Stoick and Spitelout hurried home and ate something before they took up their weapons and hurried to the arena. They passed by the smithy and waited a few minutes for Gobber, who was covered with sweat and was panting as Blubber brought in even more and more pieces to be repaired.

"Slow down, will ya?" asked Gobber frantically.

"No can do," Blubber said as he added another pile of swords. He wiped his hands and turning to Spitelout and Stoick, said, "Better hurry to the arena lads. We've got another dragon to tackle. Or, rather, Y'ALL do."

"What about me?" Gobber asked, annoyed. His hands were flying about, his stubby legs moving as fast as they could as he grabbed bent sword after dull spear and hurried them to the fire.

"Better 'urry. Shouldn't've come in earlier," Blubber said (he was never one to sympathize with slackers), and he turned and walked over to the arena with ease in his step.

Stoick and Spitelout watched him leave before they turned back to Gobber, who was huffing and puffing as he created more smoke in the tiny smithy. Both brothers waved their hands in front of their heads.

"Calm down with the smoke, Gobber!" Stoick said as Spitelout coughed in agreement.

"Sorry, BUT I'VE GOT to get all of these done," Gobber said. He waved to all of the items he needed to get down and sighing said, "Ever since I've been signed up to work all this apprentice stuff with Blubber, it seems to me that I'VE been the one doing the work while HE'S been the one hanging out at the Great 'All."

Stoick was about to speak when he heard a horn, and he turned with Spitelout to see that Blubber was blowing a large ram's horn. That meant that the training was about to start.

"Sorry, Gobber," Stoick said, not very much sounding like he was sorry at all. He quickly started to ran after Spitelout.

"Wait, who's getting the book next? Stoick!" Gobber said, but his voice was drowned out when a flood of Vikings came hurrying to the smithy, their arms bulging with weapons that needed flame help.

Stoick and Spitelout saw at the entrance to the arena that Huffnut and Buffnut (Huffnut riding her brother piggyback) were taunting Hilda, who Fishbone was trying to hold back. Of course, Buffnut was not really taunting and was instead trying to balance as Huffnut swung her scrawny arms about. Several large axes and swords were lying against the rough wall.

"What happened now?" Spitelout asked, looking around and spotting Phlegma, who looked almost bored and rolled her eyes at their childishness.

"Huffnut said that Hilda liked reading. As you can see," and Phlegma waved a hand to the five others.

"Oh, man, Huff, you're too heavy!" Buffnut said, swinging around dangerously. "Seriously, get down!"

"Come on, Buffnut," Huffnut said. "Be a man! Be a Vikin'!"

"I could if you didn't weigh so much!" Buffnut said, though Huffnut could barely weigh more than a couple of sheep.

Hilda snickered at that comment and Huffnut said, "Look who's laughin'!"

"They're pathetic," Phlegma said, shaking her head, her hands on her hips. "'Onestly, and they're all in _dragon trainin'_. How do we expect them to become Vikin's when this is the way they act?"

"Well . . ." Stoick said as he watched the two parties move back and forth, one from each trying to scratch at the other. "I'm not sure."

"We're doomed," Phlegma sighed.

Stoick nodded and looking around the entrance to the dark arena, he said, "Wait, where's Vall?"

"Probably helping Blubber. Which, we should _all _be doing," Phlegma said. "Come on, you guys."

"What are we doing today?" asked Spitelout. The clouds rumbled once more, making Berk seem even drearier with the promise of a thunderstorm. That'd help with everything, now wouldn't it?

"Hear we're going to attempt to take down the Deadly Nadder," Phlegma said as they entered through the stone doorway. They all stopped for a moment to see what was happening. All around them, walls were going up. Dark gray, bark walls that Blubber and Vall could be seen putting up.

"What is it?" asked Spitelout.

"A maze," Phlegma said matter-of-factly, "should be fun."

Behind the walls came around Blubber, breathing fast and hard, his big body too tired for such exercise. Vall came around another wall, her dark red hair jumping out against her dark new Viking helmet. She smiled and hurried over to Phlegma, avoiding Stoick.

"Get in line, you lot, 'urry up," Blubber said as Stonebone, Hilda, Huffnut and Buffnut hurried into the arena, carrying their weapons sheepishly. "'Bout time you show'd up."

"Where's Gobber?" asked Stonebone, looking down the line of trainees.

"Coming along soon enough. Okay" - Blubber clapped his hands together, his eyes looking a little evil, making Buffnut gulp - "let's get to today's training. As you can see, _Vall_, the only one who came descend enough to help me, has helped me assemble a large maze." He waved his hand around, and everyone looked about the grey walls. The dark clouds caused the entire arena to look darker than usual. Shadows appeared at corners. It looked like anything could pop out of any corner.

"Today you will be fighting the Deadly Nadder. A brightly colored dragon of medium build that has spikes along its back. It uses those to hit their victims. Can anyone tell me their shot limit?"

"Seven?"

"Yes, _thank you_, Stonebone. Now, I'll be letting out the dragon now. Don't get frightened," Blubber said. He smiled a crooked smile and said as he backed up, "Spread out. Believe me, it'll be easy for it, fish in a barrel, if ya're all together in a group."

With those kind of instructions, the trainees instantly hurried through the tall walls. Stoick stayed put, though, as the other trainees rushed behind him, watching the grey entrance and its cage-like door.

"C'mon, Gobber," he said under his breath. The Deadly Nadders were one of the most prominent dragons that showed up on Berk, and the more Vikings who knew how to defeat them, the better. And even though he would love bragging about the class, he also wanted Gobber to show up. SOON. Where was he?

He could hear echoing through the arena the sound of a cage door being lifted, and a yell that sounded through along with a loud and tired-of-being-kept-in, irritated roar.

"Oh, man, everybody move!" Buffnut shouted.

Stoick rolled his eyes and turned to see Gobber coming up to his side, panting for all he was worth. He had an axe in his hand, and looking around the maze, he asked, "Wellllll, what's 'appenin'?"

"We're fightin' a Deadly Nadder today, Gobber," Stoick said, his eyes searching amongst the walls. All he could hear the thunder rumbling and the sounds of screams and laughs and whoops from his fellow trainees.

"Love the setup!" Gobber said, looking impressed. "Perfect way to teach about the Deadly Nadder."

"Let's go find it," Stoick said, and he started to walk.

"Sounds like a plan," Gobber said, and him with his axe and Stoick with his axe, they quickly started to go through the walls. (A roar rang through the air.) The walls were winding, and dark, and sometimes they found themselves at a dead end.

Stoick sighed and turning from one of the dead ends, said, "Come on!" (In the background, he could hear, "Stonebone, Buffnut, you're both out!")

"All right," Gobber said, nodding. He looked a bit confused as he watched Stoick, who was stomping about with a dark frown on his face. "Sooooo, what's up with Vall?"

"What about her?" asked Stoick. He was mad at Vall for being mad at him, and it was obvious that they weren't talking to each other.

"Have you two made up yet?"

Stoick stopped and turning to face Gobber, who was a foot or two shorter, said, "There's nothing to talk with Vall about. She's the one who started it. She can apologize or whatever when she feels like. I'M not going to be sayin' I'm sorry for winnin' somethin' with her. SHE'S the one who needs to do it." He waved his hand in a sliding motion. "_NOT ME_."

"Ya know she's never goin' to say sorry," Gobber pointed out as another deafening roar filled the arena and Blubber's call for Hilda and Spitelout, saying they were out. "She feels like you came and ruined the victory."

"Well!" Stoick said, sighing. He held up his hands in defeat (flames spewed five feet above their heads, causing Vall and Huffnut to shout as Blubber called them) and said, "I'M not going to apologize, so we're stuck."

"Ya're never going to apologize to her? That counts as never talkin' to her again," Gobber pointed out.

"Yeah," Stoick said, nodding. Yes. That sounded like a good plan.

"That's a stupid plan," Gobber said, shaking his head slightly.

"It'll work." (Phlegma let out a war cry and Blubber said, bored, "Put some water on that and walk it off, Phlegma.")

"Nah, it won't," Gobber said, incredulous.

"But it _will_," Stoick said cheerfully, now pretty convinced that if the two of them didn't talk to each other for a while, she'd get tired of it and come over and apologize. It sounded good enough.

"But-" Gobber started, but they were interrupted when a giant dragon came jumping down from one of the walls. With longs, threatening teeth and a bright underbelly, the Deadly Nadder looked ferocious as it let out a giant roar that could strike fear into even the hearts of the most fearless Vikings.

"Well, about time we saw ya! And what a beauty!" Gobber said as Stoick hoisted his axe. Gobber held up his own axe, and Stoick said, "C'mon, Gobber!"

"Oh, quiet, you!" Gobber said to the dragon, who was roaring, and before Stoick could land a hit, several spikes were thrown at him, and he quickly jumped away, the spikes landing in the wall.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the dragon just in time to see Gobber knocking it out with the butt of his axe. Stoick let out a breath, and a grin broke out over his face. "Ya did it, Gobber! You took down the Nadder!"

Gobber, who had his axe raised above his head, looked relieved. "I guess I did."

Stoick nodded and hurried over and Gobber's axe was knocked away as Stoick bear hugged him.

"Stoick! Stop, I gotta breathe!" Gobber shoved him off, taking hasty breaths. "You stupid oaf."

"Gobber, you did it!" Stoick couldn't help but remind him. Gobber nodded and looking at the quietly sleeping Deadly Nadder, nodded and said, "Yeah."

Around the corner came Blubber, panting wildly, and the other trainees. All were looking a bit worse for wear. Stonebone was burnt but excited. Phlegma had her fist in her mouth. Huffnut and Buffnut were dragged in by Spitelout. Hilda slumped onto the ground while Vall had her arms folded, an interested look on her face while still looking a bit annoyed.

"Who did it?" Blubber asked, obviously having not kept up with them.

Stoick nodded to Gobber and Stonebone said, "Great job, Gobber!"

"Thanks," Gobber said appreciatively.

"All right, now take it to its pen BUT DON'T WAKE IT UP OR ELSE I'LL HAVE _ALL OF YOU_ CLEANIN' THE STALLS FOR A WEEK, a'ight?" Blubber said. Looking around, he added, "Afterward, meet me at the smithy."

Sighing, they all tiredly took the dragon to the pens. Rubbing their backs and talking about the scars that they would get, they headed out of the arena and to the smithy. The rain finally started to fall, causing them all to get soaked. They hurried to the smithy, needing cover because they were covered in metallic things that could easily rust.

Vall avoided Stoick but wholeheartedly congratulated Gobber.

"Thanks. Oh, Stoick wants me to tell ya that he's not speakin' to ya until you apologize," Gobber said.

"Really?" Vall said, amused as she looked to Stoick.

"Yeah, that's what he said. He is DEFINITELY NOT apologizing first," Gobber said.

"Thanks, Gobber," Vall said, eying Stoick.

Stoick did not say anything and they quickly came about to the smithy. Blubber was rummaging through a cupboard as they all filed into the tight room. It smelled and there was three goats walking about tipsily.

Blubber ahaed and popped up, waving around another Thing.

"Another book?" said Stonebone worriedly.

"Oh, please, man, no, I can't take it!" Buffnut said, backing away.

"C'mon and toughen up," Blubber said. He threw it onto the worn table, making all eyes turn to see The Dragon Manual.

"Who's goin' to read it first?" Blubber wanted to know gruffly.

**YAY! I added peoples from the TV series because ME GUSTA the TV series. I hope you like it, and thanks for reading! God bless you!  
**


	7. A Hideous Zippleback and Late Nights

**Thank you, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Monthly update! :)**

As Stoick's very sad life went, being the oldest and the next-in-line for the chieftain throne of Berk, he was given the lovely opportunity to read the book first. That was how Gobber put it, and he tried to make it sound well and good, but Stoick could see just how excited the young blacksmith apprentice had been to have gotten out of reading it for a while.

He waited until the Great Hall was deserted before he dared to look at the book. The last thing he needed was for someone to notice him actually reading a book. The light at home was horrible and he was staying away from the house, seeing as his mother was busy trying to bake and the entire house was fragranted with the smell of burning fish, which was weird, considering she was making bread. He did not say anything, though, for he and Spitelout had learned to not question things like that. Then he slipped in with a lantern, quiet as he could, and sunk down onto one of the large communal tables.

It was night out, and so he hoped that nobody would come in as he sighed and throwing the book on the table, took a seat on one of the large, long benches, and flipped it open.

"Stoker Class, Boulder Class, Fear Class, Sharp Class, Tidal Class, dang, how many of these thumpin' class are there?" Stoick muttered to himself, his sausage fingers flipping through the worn parchment pages. Gobber had volunteered to tell him earlier that it had been one of his old relatives who had written the Dragon Manual.

"Great. Lead me to him so I can go and give him a proper thank you," Stoick said sarcastically, hoping Gobber caught on.

"He's kind of dead, Stoick. Besides, we try not to mention him at me house."

"Och, and why's that? Can't imagine why," Stoick said. It was obvious, really. Reading and writing was abhorred. It was boring and intellectual and creative and just not Viking-like. All the other Vikings looked down on you if you were able to read at all. Writing a book made you a nerd, and nerds were just not allowed in Viking society.

"He was the black sheep of the family. Mum don't like to talk about 'im much, so we don't. Which is WHY we're stopping with the whole talking about 'im thingie."

"Fine."

Now, Stoick definitely could tell why Gobber acted a bit crazy sometimes. It wasn't a Berserk crazy, one that the Vikings loved and cheered on, but the kind that makes you paranoid and weird and more sadistic than usual. Flipping through the book, looking at the scrawled writing with the crude but detailed descriptions of the dragons, it was obvious that any Viking worth his salt couldn't have written this.

It was intricate, informative, and it was very, very weird, and while Stoick was questioning while this was a regular part of their dragon training curriculum, he was able to admit he agreed with Bork on one thing that appeared many times throughout the manual.

Three words.

"Kill on sight."

Most of the dragons burned, speared or bashed their victims, and all ended with "Kill on sight." It was simple, straight to the point, and it helped Stoick realize that maybe Bork knew a little about being a Viking after all.

Presently, Stoick pushed the book away, having read enough to have a bit of knowledge on the creatures and to be able to say that he read the book. He stood up, stuck it into the crook of his arm, and extinguished the candle he had brought with him once he was at the large wooden doors.

With that and a grunt, he hurried outside, hoping nobody noticed that maybe he liked the book. If just a little. He walked down the great steps and onto one of the streets, and was about to go off to his big home on the hill when he heard a husky, annoying voice.

He stopped immediately, wondering quickly if someone had seen him, but noticed that nobody was walking toward him. Looking around, he did not notice any sort of light. Peeking around a few houses, though, he managed to catch sight of a torch in the hand of an old man, an old Viking who lived a bit away from the village of Berk, using a large staff and going by the name of Mildew.

Stoick was now one for sneaking about. Being large and red, though, he had to be very careful to hide himself very discreetly away from prying eyes, eyes he knew belonged to Mildew, who was like a male version of the washerwomen gossipers who talked and chatted and laughed about the village people while they did their scrubbing by the horse troughs. He hid himself behind one of the houses, peeking around to see who Mildew was talking to.

Mildew was talking to one of the older men of the village. Stoick let out a gasp at seeing that it was Old Wrinkly, Vall's father. Mildew was saying in his long, drawling voice, "Well, Wrinkly, fancy meeting you out here at this time of night."

"I was looking at the skies. They were looking mighty beautiful," Old Wrinkly said. The old man narrowed his eyes and said, "I could say the same to you, though. You live clear on the other side of the village."

"Oh, I was out looking around the docks."

"Why?"

"Old Wrinkly, I have put it upon myself to go down there every night to see that the docks are cleared. You know how the chief is off, once again looking for the horrible dragons' nest, and seeing as his sad excuse for a son is in charge, I thought I should at least try to help protect the village."

Stoick bristled at the insult. Who was Mildew to go and judge him like that? He had half a mind to reveal himself and see Mildew tremble at being discovered by the future chief.

"From whom, Mildew?" Old Wrinkly asked.

Stoick was wondering the same thing, and bent in closer as Mildew said sleekly, "Why, from Alvin the Treacherous and the Outcasts, of course!"

Instantly, Stoick felt a shiver of fear creep down his spine. The Outcasts, the most feared Viking tribe in all of the Isles. They roamed throughout the archipelago, ransacking, attacking and creating massive amounts of sadistic mischief. They had a young leader, a scrawny lad named Alvin the Treacherous. He was tall, smart, and had not hit puberty. At least, that was what they were sure of. If that was what he was going to look like for the rest of his life, he was going to be a very laughable looking leader.

"Why would they come and attack Berk? Now, I mean? What do you know, Mildew?" Old Wrinkly asked.

"Just heard some rumors floating around. The blacksmith's is a perfect place to hear talking," Mildew said quickly.

"Yes, about rumors and village gossip."

"But news too, Old Wrinkly." Mildew smiled, and taking his staff with him, he started to walk away, saying, "been nice talking to you, Old Wrinkly. See you around!"

Stoick stayed in the shadows until Old Wrinkly had disappeared, shaking his head, before he hurried from behind the house and to his own home, burning with questions and thoughts and wonderings. Mildew, the most selfish, lazy Viking in the whole village, was out watching the docks for signs of enemy ships? It was highly unlikely, and Stoick wouldn't put it past the man to lie like that. But why?

* * *

"Nice to see t'at y'all decided to actually show up on time this morning," Blubber said, looking still unamused as he chewed something in his mouth and looked up and down the line of trainees. All were armed with their usual axes, shield and swords. The girls were all quiet looking, Hilda away from Huffnut and vice-versa, and Stonebone, Spitelout and Buffnut all were too, standing attentive.

Blubber continued with his monotone speech and somehow managed to avoid looking at Stoick and Gobber, who were talking fiercely under their breath. Well, one was. Gobber was watching Blubber's every move, his lips only moving when Stoick allowed a break in his own speech.

"Why would Mildew do somethin' like that? He's out there in town, doing somethin', and I want to get to the bottom of it," Stoick said.

Gobber kept an eye on Blubber as he answered, "And what's this 'somethin'' you're goin' to do 'bout it?"

"I've got an idea. You, me, and maybe Spitelout. We three can go spyin' on him tonight, see if he'll do the same thin'."

"Well, that's a way to insure that I don't get any sleep."

"C'mon," and with a grin, Stoick thumped him on the back, "it'll do you good."

"Suppose no reason not to. See if he really is tellin' the truth for once."

"That's the spirit, Gobber!" Stoick said excitedly, and Blubber said just then, "All right, get your buckets 'n' find your partners. I'ma let 'em out."

Stoick watched in slight confusion as the trainees scurried over to a large pile of wooden buckets. They all grabbed buckets, shoved at each other's heads, argued over them, and then dashed off into pairs of two. Stoick did not notice that Gobber had turned away, for he had turned to see him and found him not there. He turned back to see an annoyed Vall holding out a bucket full of water to him.

"What are we doin'?" he asked, taking the bucket from the sour looking Vall.

"Weren't you TRYIN' to listen to what Blubber was explainin'?" Vall sighed. "The next dragon comin' out is the Hideous Zippleback, and what does the Hideous Zippleback have?"

"Two heads, of course."

"Yeah, and one spits out gas and the other lights it. Between the two of us, we're goin' to have to find which one has the flame and wet its head before it goes and kills us all. Right?"

"Sounds like a plan," Stoick said, his voice even, and the two of them, now surrounded by hisses of Hideous Zippleback fumes, slowly walked around next to each other, trying to locate the dragon(s?).

"It could be anywhere," Stoick said quietly.

"I know that. I'm not stupid, Stoick," Vall said heatedly, and that's when they heard the first of the screams. Calm looking, the two cocked their heads, trying to look around the fumes, Vall saying, "Well, that's one done."

"How many are left?"

"Dunno."

"Get into it, Stoick! Vall! Come on!" they heard Blubber's distorted voice yell at them. He was obviously irritated, and that meant that the dragon was either very far away from them, making him want them to get into the game more, or it was quite near them, ready to strike at any time.

And that was when a very large dragon came peeking out of the fumes, two snaky heads sleeking out of the fumes, moving about on their long necks, floating along with delightful grins on their faces, moving closer and closer toward the two teens.

"Which head?" Stoick yelled.

"Pick!" Vall said, and they both aimed at the wrong one at the exact same time, causing their water to soak the gas head, leaving the spark head to rise up with a smirk on its face, bits of lightening at its mouth, seething and begging to come out.

"That was stupid," Vall said to herself, and she threw the bucket with a grunt at the spark head, just narrowly missing the head. Stoick did the same, but he didn't hit it either, for the head was moving back and forth excitedly, like it was a game.

"We're not doomed," Stoick said, and the snake-like head came down to the two teens' head level, and hissed pleasantly, sparking flying out of its mouth. "Yet."

Vall and Stoick, neither moving an inch, both started looking determined and punced their fists against their open palms, ready to take on the head, when two sprays of water came flying out of the green mist, hitting the head, dousing it quite thoroughly, making it let out a hiss of annoyance and back away toward the other head.

Stoick and Vall instantly turned to see Gobber and Spitelout, who had been paired together, walk out of the fog, the sounds of the Hideous Zippleback being pushed and prodded back into its cage filling the air.

Gobber smiled a toothy grin. "Well, seems like THAT problem is taken care of!"

"Aye, guess so," Stoick said, and he and Vall both suddenly realized how close they were to each other, and they quickly backed away, muttering to themselves while dusting off their armor.

"Good show, lads," Blubber said as he and the other trainees joined him. He looked to Gobber, and picking his teeth, said, "I suppose you're not as much as a failure of a Viking as I thought."

Coming from Blubber, that could be put on record as a compliment.

Gobber joined Stoick and Spitelout as Blubber shooed them all out of the arena; Hilda and Huffnut wrestled behind them as Stoick finished summing up the plan for spying on Mildew with Spitelout.

"Sounds like somethin', then. You sure about the whole Outcast thing?" Spitelout asked. The three were in a huddle. Gobber shrugged his shoulders, making Stoick shove his head. "'Course I am."

"Old Wrinkly talked with 'im?"

"Certain as I can ever be."

"All right. Tonight then?"

Stoick nodded gravely. "Tonight."

* * *

It was a moonlit late night, for which all three of the boys were grateful, for they didn't have to bring along a torch, which would alert Mildew to their presence. Which was a bad thing, considering that they were trying to spy on him. They went down to the docks, just as he had the night before, and they indeed found him at the bottom of the docks, talking to his old sheep.

"Oh, Fungus," Mildew said, his staff in his hand, his eyes looking out over the dock. "Just a matter of time now."

"What's he doin'?" Stoick said to himself. The three of them were against the rock that made up the structure of the island, near the dock so they could hear him but not too close at all.

"We don't know, so if you just be quiet, we might found out a thin' or two," Gobber said. He let out a grunt as he scratched his neck. "Ach, I'm getting inchy. This salt air. . ."

"Shhh," Stoick said.

"Oh, we were _supposed_ to be quiet?" The three boys immediately turned around to see Vall, holding an axe and looking very cheerful from her hiding spot.

"Vall! What're you doin' 'ere?" Gobber asked quickly.

"Wanted to see what Mildew was doin'," she said, jumping down. She crossed over to Stoick and said in her accented, husky voice, "I heard you mention my dad."

"Ya did now, huh?" Stoick managed to get out.

"Yes, and now I want to know what Mildew is doin' same as you. So don't argue."

"Ya're goin' to have to be quiet," Spitelout said quickly.

Vall nodded. "I can do that."

"Obviously you can't," and the four instantly turned to see Mildew looking at them, a frown on his face, Fungus the sheep boredly chewing grass beside him.

**Yes, adding Mildew because even though I don't like him, I have a plot going with him! Thank you for reading, and please drop a review if you feel like it! :)** **God bless you!**


	8. The Great and Crushed Traitor Mildew

**Thank you, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Happy New Year, everyone! (And I know I'm late in saying that. Don't judge me! DX) Please accept this gift of a chapter. Thank you for reading! God bless you! **

"Now, just what are you kids doin' out 'ere on a night like this?" Mildew wanted to know. He stepped closer, his staff thumping against the harbor. Fungus let out a bored baaaaa.

"Spyin' on ya, obviously," Vall said, and she stepped forward, her auburn braids bouncing on her shoulders, looking deathly annoyed with the man. "Just WUT were ya doin' with my dad last night? Wut were ya doin' walkin' 'round the village at night PERIOD?"

"THAT, is none of your concern, little girl," Mildew said, stepping away. He gave the four teens an availing look, muttering something to himself under his breath, not sounding too pleased.

Vall turned bright pink and stepped forward. She was almost heftier than him, which wasn't saying too much, being as Mildew was one of the skinniest grown Vikings on the isle of Berk, but the way she looked at him made even the tall and masculine Spitelout, Gobber and Stoick feel a bit glad they weren't Mildew (though they were glad they weren't all the time). "And now, just why are you 'ere by the docks?" She turned and pointed to the boys, saying, "I just came 'ere to spy on them, wonderin' wut they're doin', but apparently they're onto somethin'."

Mildew smiled a silky smile as he walked over to the great pile of barrels and boxes at the edge of the dock, Fungus trotting along his side. He reached in and grabbed a fishing pole, a craggy, jointed stick with a limp string hanging from it, a boney hook at the end of it.

"Why, just a little late night fishin'," Mildew said. He walked over to the edge of the harbor and took a seat, and swung his string over into the water. Fungus stood next to him as he turned back to face Vall and said, "Like a bit of fresh halibut in the mornin' for breakfast. NOTHIN' sweeter."

"Is that your excuse for last night too, or were ya doin' somethin' else?" Vall asked.

"Are you questionin' your elders, little girl?" Mildew asked. "I was 'ere last night. That's all there is to it."

Vall and the other teens didn't believe him, but still, Vall turned and headed up the harbor steps to where the boys stood, Gobber saying, "Ya made some real progress there."

Vall scoffed and hurried past him, shoving his hand away. Gobber turned back to Stoick and said incredulously, "What's wi'h 'er?"

"She's takin' your sarcasm too seriously, Gobber," Spitelout said.

"I were't bein' sarcastic," Gobber said. He turned to Stoick, who was standing on the dock, looking out over the sea. "Was I easily perceived to be so, Stoick?"

It looked as if Stoick didn't hear him. He was looking out, squinting his eyes, leaning forward. There was something out there, on the ocean. It was too big and bulky to be a dragon, with it being so close to water.

"Stoick?"

"Spite, Gobber, do ya see that?" Stoick asked, pointing into the moonlit waters, his voice soft.

"See wut?" Gobber said. Spitelout and he took to Stoick's sides, and they too looked out through the low clouds.

Stoick shook his head and pointed closer, saying, "Look, it looks like a ship!"

"A ship? Dad's ship?" Spitelout said quickly.

"Nah. They always arrive during the day, toward mid-afternoon," Gobber said. His eyes widened, though, as he voiced his thoughts, "Wait, wut if they found the dragons' nest, and they need to come get Vikin's to take the nest? Wut if they don't 'ave enough men?"

"Who knows?" Spitelout said, letting out a breath. He turned to Stoick and said, "Stoick, wut do ya think? Wut should we do?"

Stoick gulped, for he saw it. In a beam of moonlight, he saw it. It was a flowing, dirty flag, flailing about due to the high wings flying through the air. It was at the top of the mast, and it held the promise of death and destruction.

"That isn't a Berk ship. That's an Outcast ship," Stoick said quickly, looking to the other teens, who both quickly paled.

"Welllll. That changes things, now don't it?" Gobber said.

"Wut do we do?" Spitelout said, looking determined but otherwise slightly horrified.

Stoick was glaring down at Mildew, who, unaware of the whisperings happening a few yards away from him, thinking that the teens had all followed Vall away, was standing up, and throwing his fishing pole, he waved, trying to catch the sight of the Outcast ship.

"And he's calling them in," Stoick said, grinding his teeth as he clenched his teeth. He turned to his brother and best friend and said, "Quick, into the village." He quickly hurried forward, making short work and as little noise as he could up the stairs, the boys by his side, keeping pace.

"All right, _Future Chieftain_, wut's the plan? Wut are we doin'?" Gobber asked, sounding almost cheerful and optimistic.

"We're alerting the entire town. Get to the towers with their horns. We need everyone out of beds, everyone awake to fight. The Outcasts are comin', and while it's only one ship and I dunno wut they mean with only one, we're not lookin' to make peace treaties with them. They're Outcasts; irredeemable, nonnegotiable, and so there's no point in pursuing that path." They barely huffed and puffed as they came up to the top of the harbor and the edge of the village. "Gobber, you get to the towers. Spitelout, make sure you get the other teens up. They can 'elp wake people up."

"And wut are ya goin' to be doin'?" Spitelout asked.

"Find Vall, get 'er to 'elp."

"A'ight, your idea," Gobber said, and he hurried through the village. Stoick nodded and darted about, trying to find Vall. She was bound to be here somewhere, and she could help them, but what did Old Wrinkly have to do with this? Sure-surely he wasn't helping Mildew, the old traitor!

Suddenly Stoick skated to a stop, realizing something. The Outcasts were still far out there; he had to go get Mildew before he met up with them. He hurried through, panting, the streets. He couldn't just let the traitor stand there welcoming the enemy! Mixing with the enemy's mind by getting their ally away from them was always a good thing.

It was just a lot of stairs to get down to the harbor.

Still, Stoick raced down the stairs, his hands pumping in fists next to him, plowing and turning down dozens and dozens of creaky wooden stairs. The ship was coming in closer now, its bow standing out in the mist. Mildew looked completely and utterly calm as he waved for the ship to come on. The ship knocked against a few of the other boats as it came in. The Outcasts, while still away a bit, were visible to Stoick, and large, and fast, working away at the oars. Stoick only hoped that they didn't see him as he came around to the edge of the pier.

He quickly darted forward and grabbed Mildew, one of his hands over his mouth, the other holding his arms against him. He felt a little scream against his hands, but he didn't care as he turned and hurried up the stairs, Mildew acting finicky in his hands. Behind him, Fungus watched them with a bored look before he baa-ed and turned back to the Outcasts, who were still milling about in their ship, completely unaware that their spy and ally was gone.

By the time a slightly panting Stoick got to the edge of the village, lights were being lit. Spitelout and Gobber must have alerted the watchtowers, for the great fires on top of the towers were lit and the sounds of the horns were filling the air. Hopefully, the noise would not cause the Outcasts to turn back at being discovered.

Vikings came dashing out of their homes, carrying swords and spears and maces and shields. Women peeked out, looked determined with their buckets already sopping with water, ready to take down any fire or flame they saw.

They all looked about, yelling and muttering and wondering where the dragons were. Stoick threw Mildew from him with a yell, for the old man had bitten him. He quickly sat on him, though, saying, "Don't ya dare try to get up, you traitor."

"I-I did NOTHIN' wrong, I swear," Mildew said quickly.

"Don't play innocent with ME, Mildew, and don't lie to your future chief. I can promise ya that ya'll regret that decision," Stoick said, gritting his teeth. Mildew frowned, but looked politely cringy as other Vikings came up to Stoick, muttering and yelling and pointing and wonderin' where the hell are the dragons and if there wasn't any, why did he get the others to wake them up in the middle of the night?

"Stoick!" Blubber said, coming forward out of the group. He was wearing just a large fur vest and fur pants. He was sweaty, smelly, and looking annoyed. "Wut's up with gettin' us all up? Wut happened?"

"There are Outcasts, down by the harbor, and they're in with Mildew," Stoick said, and this caused many to look horrified. They instantly started to argue and whisper among themselves, Blubber saying, "How do you know that Mildew threw his lot in with them?"

"Last night I caught him talking to Old Wrinkly when I was comin' home from readin' in the Great Hall. And then tonight, I went with Gobber and Spitelout to find him, to see if he'd do the same tonight, and we spotted him by the harbor, and he was waving in the Outcast ship. We need to catch them and drive them out. They know people are awake. It's time to fight them!" Stoick said, and since Vikings are not exactly ones to want further explanation or time, they yelled and rushed down to the harbor, their feet pounding and waking up the rest of the village who weren't asleep.

"Readin' a book, Stoick?" Mildew said, sounding smug, from beneath him.

"Training dragons takes skill, Mildew, and I do wut I have to to be able to do that," Stoick said, sitting down harder.

That was when, from among the women, who were rallying together to get more swords, and the children, who were all watching curiously, came the other teens, all skating to a stop in front of Stoick, Gobber and Spitelout especially panting. There was, Stoick noticed, no Vall among them.

"All right, so wut the heck happened?" Buffnut asked, looking for an answer. "'Cause I was just woken up from sleep and I want a reason for that."

"He was tryin' to hibernate," Ruffnut said.

"He sure could use his beauty sleep," Hilda said, making Ruffnut glare and stomp over to her, saying, "'Ey, if anyone's going to insult my brother, it's goin' to be me!" and she pounced on Hilda.

"Oh, thanks for havin' my back, sis," Buffnut said cheerfully.

"There was somethin' 'bout Outcasts I heard, is that true, Stoick?" Phlegma said, waving her hands around.

"Did you see HIM?" Stonebone asked. "Alvin the Treacherous?"

That sent a chill down every trainees' spine.

"I didn't see him, but the ship sailed Outcast flags," Stoick said.

"WUT are they doin' 'ere, though?" Spitelout wanted to know.

"Lookin' to invade us? Well, gooooood luck with that one," Gobber said, grinning.

Stoick nodded. "Tryin' to invade Berk's shores are nearly impossible." He looked down and said to Mildew's crushed head, "Hear that?"

"Yes, ya don't 'ave to go yellin' in my ear to make your point," Mildew said scathingly.

"Sooooo, wut are we doin' up 'ere if the Outcasts are down there?" Stonebone said. Everyone looked at each other (even Huffnut and Hilda managed to kick away from each other) and instantly, hands already wrapped around swords, hurried, whooping, toward the harbor. All except for Stoick, who stayed kurplunk on top of Mildew.

"Ya want to go down there, don't ya?" Mildew said.

"Sure, but wut to do with ya, aye?" Stoick said. All of the manly Vikings were down at the harbor, and he didn't trust anyone else otherwise to keep a true eye on Mildew besides himself. So he didn't budge.

Mildew grumbled and sitting up the best he could, called for Fungus, but the unhelpful sheep stayed far away from his master. Stoick smirked.

"Stoick?" Stoick heard, and he looked up to see Vall. Her figure was vague in the dark night, but he could tell it was her, and he gulped and said, "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for goin' after ya after eavesdroppin' on ya, a'ight? Look, want me to take care of Mildew while ya go down there?" Vall said. She grinned, though, making her freckled cheeks stand out, as she added, "Ya know you want to, there's no denyin' it!"

"Well," Stoick said quietly. Though he did want to go, he didn't want to leave Mildew, the stinkin' traitor.

"C'mon," Vall said, and Stoick realized that she was trying to make up for the wrong she did, but before he could say anything else, they both turned when they heard shouts and whoops and arguing and yelling behind them. The Vikings were making quick work of the stairs, (the teens all looked particularly annoyed at not having been able to fight), all coming up, talking amongst themselves.

"Wut 'appened?" Mulch said, he and Bucket running up to where Vall, Stoick and Mildew were. The other teens came by and Buffnut said, shouldering his axe, "The Outcasts heard the 'orn, and they fell back. However," he reached down and poked Mildew with the smooth end of his axe's handle, "looks like we've got a traitor to interrogate."

"Yeah, that'll be cool," Huffnut said, pushing on her helmet.

Stoick nodded and that was when Birchbark, followed with his posse of Stinkypot, Lob Long, Brawnbear, Biggiester, and Axington, came walking by, shouldering an axe and shield. "Managed to scare away our number one enemies, Stoick. Nicely done," Birchbark said, making Axington guffaw.

"I managed to alert the entire village and save us from an attack from the Outcasts in the middle of the night, captured a traitor and did it all while ya were sleepin' in your warm bed. So yeah, nicely done on my part," Stoick said cheerfully, and this made Birchbark roll his eyes and beckon for his posse to follow him.

Up came Stoick's mother, Ingrid, and Gobber's parents and Old Wrinkly, who said, stepping forward, "Stoick, c'mon along."

"Wut are we doin'?" Stoick asked, standing up with one firmly booted foot on Mildew, putting all of his body weight on him, making the old man groan.

"We're takin' Mildew to be discussed in the Great Hall. You're old enough to join us there for council now," Old Wrinkly said with a smile.

Stoick grinned and said, "Really?"

"Yeah, so come along," Old Wrinkly said, and getting nods from his friends, Stoick grabbed Mildew and holding him up by his collar, headed off with the elders to the Great Hall to discuss his fate.

**Thank you for reading! God bless you!**


	9. The Terribly Terrible Terror

**Thank you, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own How To Train Your Dragon. Hi. This story isn't dead. XD**

The Great Hall, a great, dark, rafter-and-draft filled hall, was dark this early in the morning. The doors, large and mahogany-like, creaked forebodingly as Old Wrinkly, grunting, tried to open them with his weak arms. Ingrid opened both doors with her two large arms, and the Vikings all hurried to the great, round table that filled the majority of the Hall.

The table was more like rims of wood around a great fire in a stone ring, whose coals were slowly dying. One of the Vikings started to provoke the coals and one breathed heavily on them, his stinky breath providing oxygen to the flames. The rest of them, save Old Wrinkly and Stoick and Mildew, who was cowering in the teen's strong arms, gathered around and took their seats around the table, all looking to the three expectantly.

Old Wrinkly stepped forward and said, "Vikings of Berk, I have called this meeting due to the crime that Mildew has committed." He turned to Mildew after no one said anything else accusatory, and said, "Mildew, you were spotted aiding and abetting the Outcast tribe and their chief, Alvin. You were then captured. Do you deny what you did?"

"Yes-" Mildew said quickly, and that was when Stoick tightened his grip on the man, squeezing his limbs until he gasped and said, "oh, fine. I did 'elp the Outcasts."

"As everyone on this island knows, that is a capital offense," Old Wrinkly said.

"'Capital?' What are we now, Romans? Nasty beings," Mildew said. No one said anything; while they agreed with him about the vicious Romans who crossed their boats every now and then with their stuck-up noses and rapid fire, it did not do well to agree with the traitor.

"Pray you don't change the subject, Mildew," Old Wrinkly said calmly. "Now, that classifies you as a traitor and you have to conform to a punishment. Now," he looked around the Great Hall with a steady sort of gaze, "Liam isn't here, so we have two options, it seems. Either we vote on how to deal with Mildew, or we hold him until the Chief can come back and bestow punishment on him as he sees fit. What is the answer?"

* * *

"They let him go?" Buffnut said, dumbfounded.

"Alive?" Huffnut said before she was caught around the middle and thrown to the ground by Hilda. The two started to rapidly slap at the other's face with drawn and curled fingers, like dragon's claws.

"Well, not really," Stoick said. "They're 'oldin' him in the tree prison over on the top of that 'ill over there" - he pointed thusly to where two Vikings were visibly armed and pushing Mildew ahead of them on a path spiraling around the tall hill. Mildew snarled at them and rubbed his back with his hand. A few paces after the Vikings trotted a bored looking sheep - "until my dad comes back. Mildew will then 'ave a full blown trial."

"At least 'e's gettin' that, aye?" Gobber said. He spat at the ground and went back to banging at the sword he was working on. They were all standing around the smithy and were sweating in the heat of the boiling hot fire, despite the fact that Berk was pretty much always as cold and wet as cold and wet can be.

"Aye, at least that," Stoick said, though he was still terribly angry about Mildew escaping punishment that easily at all. He bristled at the thought, but also gained a little praise as Bucket and Mulch came hurrying to him, Mulch nearly falling over himself as he said, "Stoick, golly, that was amazing! I still can't believe that you caught him like that!"

"Oh, it-it wasn't much," Stoick said, though he looked pleased with himself.

"Yeh, 'e had 'elp," Spitelout said quickly.

"Yeh, guess from whom?" Gobber said cheerfully as he blew on the sword and stuck it into the barrel of water that stood by. Stonebone and Phlegma leaned forward into it, sighing as their face disappeared in the fog.

"Oh, that feels great," Stonebone said.

"No joke," Phlegma said, her accent clear in the sentence.

"When are we supposed to 'ead into trainin', anyway?" Gobber said conversationally.

"That all depends. Where is Blubber?" Stoick said, looking around the busy village, which was bustling with talk about the happenings of last night. Stoick had had to tell several people what had happened before he stuffed himself with porridge and foregoing sleep, (hell, who needs sleep?), went off and found his friends. He had now not seen Blubber at all since then, the last time being in the Great Hall.

"'E's in with the rest of the men. Ya know, making MANLY decisions and all that," Gobber said. "'E should be comin' along."

"What IS the next dragon we're doin'?" Phlegma asked. She looked to Vall, who was running a rock calmly against the blade of her sword. She leaned against the smithy and hadn't said a word since she got there.

"Ugh, I heard - DAMN IT, HUFF, STOP - it's that lame one - what's it called - wait, oh, that Terrible Terror," Hilda said as she kicked Huffnut in the side and made her go UMPH! into the wall of the smithy. "Ain't that the little tiny thing?"

"'Ey, Terrible Terrors can be lethal on occasion," Stonebone said quickly.

"Yeh. Whoever named them should have called them Tiny Terrors instead. Would have fit them better," Buffnut said.

"Bork the Bold wasn't called Bork the Bright for a reason," Gobber said quietly to Stoick, who nodded. The chief-to-be turned and saw Blubber coming over to them, trying to suppress a wide yawn.

"All right, ya lot. Let's move out. To the arena, before I fall over on top of ya," Blubber said, and he reached past Gobber and grabbed a sword and a shield and stomped, making the ground shake like an earthquake, as he walked past them.

"Right, let's do this thing!" Buffnut said.

"This shouldn't be THAT 'ard," Vall said, joining the others.

"'Ey, wait for me!" Gobber said, untying and yanking off his apron and hopping over the smith's wall to fall in step with Stoick and Spitelout.

"While being slightly wary of them, I should say that they should be easily taken down," Stonebone said, brandishing his sword. He fell in step with them all and said, "We're all pure muscle and skill, and they like eating their own boogies."

"Sounds like Huffnut," Hilda said, making Huffnut turn her sword to her, and the two maintained a duel as they walked down to the arena, which looked as dismal, grey, large, and smelly as ever.

Stoick stepped forward and opened the doors, and they immediately went to business, for Blubber looked like he was going to fall over at any time.

"I think he needs to invest in a bit o' sleep," Vall said under her breath as he came forward, having explained that they were going 'freestyle' today with no obstacles or two-headed dragons and things like that. Just the nine of them and one tiny, little, Terrible Terror. Easy-peasy. Or so they all thought.

"Aye, so could I," Gobber said, taking in a big yawn that allowed a large bug to fly into his mouth. He closed his mouth and smacking, said, "Hmm. Could use a bit of salt."

Blubber plodded to the stone door and unhooked it, standing back as he said, "Don't die. I'mma goin' to go to bed now. Someone tell me who wins."

"It's goin' to be me," Spitelout said.

"Sure," Blubber said tiredly, walking to and out the door.

Now, if this was an ordinary dragon that was freakin' huge and needed all weapons against it, the nine trainees surely would have had their shields at ready, holding their swords and spears in their hands, standing in a battle stance, eyes narrowing, ready for fire-breathing battle. But all knew the likes of the Terrible Terror. It was the kind of dragon that annoyed your mum when it came in and pooed in her bucket of dishwater or ate the roast she had cooking over the great fire. They weren't too terribly scared of it, despite its name, and so waited, almost impatiently, as it crawled from under the cage door. It was dark red and puke green, with big yellow eyes that darted about, and two little nostrils which sniffed expectantly.

The real fight here was the brawl they'd get into in rushing to attack it first.

The brawl proceeded and the nine teens tangled with each other as they wrestled and bonked the nearest head with their fists. Buffnut let out a yell before Stonebone sat on his face. Spitelout and Gobber were going a different route and proceeded to do rock, paper, scissors, throwing a punch at each other when they lost.

The little Terrible Terror watched them all with inquisitive eyes, walking forward, sniffing curiously, up to where Stoick's head was smashed against the ground on the edge of the group.

"Ugh," he said, and the Terrible Terror cocked its head. Nobody else noticed that he had approached them, and Stoick didn't want to bring attention to it, for he didn't want anyone else to move over and take it out instead of him. He had the problem of having Hilda and Phlegma on his back, though, and his arms were pinned to his sides. There was nothing he could do but fidget and watch the little dragon watch him oddly, before, after a moment, it coughed and spat a fireball into his face, burning his nose.

"'Ey!" he growled, but the Terrible Terror didn't look too apologetic. It instead stepped forward and started to lick Stoick's nose to see if it tasted nice.

"Stop that, you parasite!" he said, but the Terrible Terror didn't take well to that, and his little teeth came down on Stoick's now burnt and charred nose.

Stoick let out a curse and instantly managed to stand up, dumping Phlegma and Hilda off of his back. The little dragon let out an impatient squeal but didn't let go as Stoick slapped away at it, sending it flying this way and that in the air, his head still at the fixed point on Stoick's face.

The teen finally growled and all was silent except for the squishing sound he made when he sandwiched his hands around the Terrible Terror's body and yanked it off, making it squeal. He threw it against the wall of the arena, and it landed with a little THUMP! After a long moment, the dragon managed to stand up on his four little legs, and squeaking quietly to himself, walked back to his cage door, sending it flapping and nearly pushing him back into his cage.

Stoick hurried up and locked it, slipping the hook back into place. He looked to the rest of the teens, who looked back at him. They were not awestruck. Any of them could have done that. He just did it first.

Hilda cursed and Gobber said, almost resignedly, "Well, that's that. I'll tell Blubber that ya won."

Stoick nodded and they each gave one another another good thump on the head before they fell over off of each other.

"'Ow did that teach us to deal with dragons?" Huffnut said huffily.

"I guess it's supposed to mean that we don't need a ton of strength to defeat dragons," Stonebone said. They all stared back at him, and Spitelout said, "Ya know, I don't think so. That's a bit too deep for Blubber to give us to learn."

"We have one more training class left, now," Vall said as they all started their way to the door. "The Gronckle, one more time."

"The winners of all the classes get to compete against it," said Stonebone.

"Man," Buffnut said. He cheered, though, when he said, "At least I won't get totally losered in front of everybody watching."

"'Losered' isn't a word," Stonebone said.

"Yes it is," Stoick said confidently.

"No, it isn't," Stonebone said indignantly.

"I use it a lot," Phlegma said as they exited the place. Stoick nodded and his heavy feet started to carry him away from the group toward the woods, and Stonebone started to argue with Buffnut when Vall called after him, "Hey!"

"What?" he said, turning back to her. She looked curious.

"Where are ya goin'?" she said quietly.

Stoick had a plan in mind he had had since they were by the smithy. "I'm goin' to go see Mildew."

"Think they'd just let ya see 'im?" Vall asked, cocking her head, curious. Her green eyes searched him as he shrugged. "I DID catch 'im, ya know. It's practically obligatory."

Vall, after a moment, looked away from him, and hurried from the crowd, which was heading off to the Great Hall. She came up to him, hands on her hips, and said, "Then I want to go with ya. See why he was sneakin' 'round my dad."

Stoick would have refused her if she had been Hilda, Huffnut or Phlegma, but she was _Vall_. He quickly cleared his throat, reminding himself that she just wanted to see about her father, and said roughly, "Fine. Keep up."

Vall smiled as she ran ahead of him, racing to the hill, yelling after her, "That shouldn't be a problem!"

**Thanks for reading and sorry for the absence on this story. God bless you!**


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